Monsters and Manners
by cousin D
Summary: Alfred, timid and obedient to a fault, followed Professor Abronius to a castle in Transylvania where he found a family unlike any he'd ever imagined. Warning: Slash and homophobia.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Tanz Der Vampire doesn't belong to me.

Warning: slash and homophobia

 **Monsters and Manners**

 **Chapter 1: Pushed**

Vampire hunting.

As a child, scraping a living from the harsh streets of London, Alfred Cooper never would have dreamed that he would one day be doing something so utterly foolish as vampire hunting.

He wasn't even entirely certain that he believed vampires were real.

Alfred shivered as the wind cut through his thin coat. The scarf, wrapped around his throat, wasn't heavy enough and his hat didn't cover his ears. While his clothes were good and warm for English weather, he felt like an icicle in the fierce cold of the winter in Transylvania. He was thankful for the mittens he wore, but his feet were wet inside his shoes from the inches of snow on the ground.

Still, onward he walked, following as closely as he was able to the back of the professor.

"That fool who couldn't keep his mouth shut, " Professor Abronsius said, "The one who mentioned the castle when none of the others wanted to admit it, you remember? He told me that the lord of that castle is a count." He looked over his shoulder at Alfred and narrowed his eyes. "That means I don't want to hear a word from you unless he speaks to you first! Understand?"

"Yes, professor. Of course." He had learned that rule long ago.

"Excellent. You just keep in your place and be silent. Your opinion won't be wanted, so don't give it."

"Yes, sir." He knew he wasn't to talk to people above his station – the professor had always made that very clear. Even if the count did turn out to be a real vampire as Professor Abronsius suspected, Alfred wasn't important enough for someone like that to bother with.

"The count is also rumored to have a son, a young man who appears to be somewhere near twenty years-old or so." Professor Abronsius stopped walking and turned to face Alfred with a dark frown and shook his umbrella at Alfred. "If I catch you even once making eyes at the young lord…"

"I won't! On my word, sir!" Alfred was quick to defend himself. "I've been very good about… that."

"Excellent. Make sure you keep being good and remember what I told you - boys who oogle other boys go to Hell." He turned on his heel and started marching his way up the path that led to the castle in the high hills. "This count is likely to be an ancient vampire and if he thinks you are perversely corrupting his son, he will likely have you hung from the highest rafters, so you keep to yourself."

Alfred's gut churned with shame as it always did when Professor Abronsius felt the need to reprimand him about his unnatural leanings.

It had been years ago when Professor Abronsius had needed to tell Alfred that what he felt was altogether wrong. They'd been traveling through a town where a circus troupe had set up for a show. Alfred had been staring a little too long at a barely dressed trapeze artist. When Professor Ambronsius commented that Alfred had good taste in women for such a young man, Alfred had made the mistake of commenting that he thought the lion tamer was lovely, too.

Professor Abronsius had dragged Alfred away from the circus with a pinching grip of Alfred's poor ear and, back at the inn they'd been staying at, he'd spent a full hour explaining exactly why such disgusting thoughts were entirely wrong.

Alfred did try to be good. He tried so hard to stop himself from staring at other boys. It was almost like he couldn't stop himself from such evil and Professor Abronsius had made it clear that doing so was quite evil. It must be evil for, lately, every time Alfred found himself noticing a handsome face, he felt a horrible mix of shame, guilt, and disgust at himself.

Determined not to anger the professor, Alfred hurried to catch up. "I do like girls, professor. Honestly." Sarah was about the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen and his heart beat faster just looking at her. Why, he didn't know what he'd do if she ever allowed him a kiss.

"Good, you just keep thinking like that and maybe you'll turn out normal."

If Professor Abronsius felt the cold at all, he didn't let it slow him down. The professor, so happy to be close to his goal, was nearly running even though the falling snow made the ground slick underfoot. He was so excited that he didn't even both to see whether or not Alfred was still following after his earlier warnings.

Cold and tired, Alfred followed the professor up the trail towards the castle. The daylight had faded before they reached the castle. The castle slowly became visible as they drew closer, a mammoth structure that looked as old as time itself. It was ancient with strength enough to survive more centuries to follow, from the looks of it. It was huge, bigger than anything Alfred had ever seen. He didn't want to go there. He was scared, but Sarah was in there and he was sure she would need help. Even though he knew he didn't stand a chance of ever winning her heart, he wanted to help. She had been kind to him and there had been precious little kindness in his life. She didn't seem to want anything from him, but she had been kind regardless and had spoken to him so gently. He would save her if it was the last thing he did.

"They lurk within," the professor struck a hand on Alfred's shoulder. His eyes, when he looked at Alfred rather than the castle, were glittering. "I'm finally here. Finally I'll be able to complete my research." He let out a little chuckle. "And then we'll see what that Van Helsing fellow has to say about who the expert in this field is."

"But how do we get in, sir?" Alfred didn't fancy climbing the stone walls, but the large entrance was barred with a heavy iron gate.

"You are going to crawl in, of course. Then you'll open it from in the inside. There must be some sort of mechanism." He gestured to the bottom of the gates where, indeed, there was a very narrow empty space.

Alfred looked at the professor with wide eyes. "But… I'll never fit."

"I didn't bring you along for your witty conversation, Alfred! Make yourself useful!" He gave Alfred a hard push on the shoulder that sent him staggering towards the gate.

Resigned, Alfred got on his hands and knees and felt them numb almost at once. His trousers were as wet as his socks, now. He didn't have a choice, though, so he started to try to get through the opening under the gate when it very suddenly rose. He found himself staring at a pair of polished black shoes. Alfred looked up and saw a man, tall and grand with a cape that billowed around him in the wind. The man stared down at Alfred with a raised eyebrow.

Alfred scurried back and jumped to his feet as the man strode out the door. Alfred dashed to stand behind the professor, because that was his place. It was one of the first things the professor had taught him – when there were important people around, Alfred was to stand behind the professor to show that he knew where he belonged. He was glad for the shield that gave him when the tall man smiled.

"Greetings," the man studied them carefully. "I am so very pleased to have visitors, you are quite welcome in my home."

Alfred was more than happy to stay half-hidden behind the professor and even took hold of the back of the man's coat, though he knew the professor would later reprimand him for such behavior. It was a welcome reminder that he wasn't alone, that Professor Abronsius, who knew so much about everything, could surely deal with whatever trouble should arise – even if that trouble came in the form of a huge noble who, if the professor was right, was a monster. Alfred listened as the two men made small talk and said nothing. As he'd been earlier reminded, his opinion was not wanted in such conversations. Alfred was so well used to being ignored while the professor was having conversations with other gentlemen that he was utterly shocked when Count Von Krolock inquired about him. No one ever asked about him.

Alfred started and found Count Von Krolock watching him from where he peered over the professor's shoulder.

"He's just a boy, your Excellency," the professor said, absently. "No one at all of any consequence. He's my assistant, Alfred."

And then Alfred found himself the sole object of the Count's attention as Professor Ambronsius moved away and stepped behind him. There was a hand on his back and Alfred was shoved forward and found himself standing not four feet away from the supposed vampire.

Alfred had never really believed in vampires; they were only in stories and if the professor chose to believe in them, that was his affair. Alfred never questioned him on his beliefs or his research as his duty lay in doing as he was told. He carried things and fetched, he ran errands and anything else the professor needed to be done. He didn't need to believe. But… with Count Von Krolock looking at him so very intently, Alfred couldn't deny the skin so white it looked as if it had never been touched by the sun. He couldn't deny those long fingers, each one tipped with a claw-like fingernail. Alfred still wouldn't swear that the man was a vampire, but he also couldn't quite bring himself to say that Count Von Krolock was entirely human.

Alfred felt like a piece of cheese left out for the mouse and tried very hard not to shake. The man was tall and broad at the shoulders and wore such finery as Alfred knew he would never be able to afford even if the professor began to pay him for his work.

"Good evening, Alfred. My compliments. This," he raise a hand and gestured towards the door of the castle. "Is my son, Herbert. I'm sure you'll get to know each other quite well."

Alfred hadn't even noticed anyone standing there in the shadows until the other person stepped out into the moonlight. Herbert wasn't quite as big as his father, but he was still far bigger than Alfred. He was dressed with great style, like a preening peacock. Like his father, he wore a long, black cape, but when he spread his arms out at his sides and Alfred could see his clothes, he saw that Herbert was dressed almost entirely in pale gray with black lace at his shirt cuffs. His waistcoat had delicate embroidery done all over with white thread and his silver buttons were polished. He even wore fine white gloves. His hair was very long and so pale that it was nearly white, all of it tied neatly at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon.

Herbert was just about the prettiest person Alfred had ever seen, certainly the prettiest man.

As that thought zipped through his head, Alfred felt a sharp stab of shame. He shouldn't think like that.

Herbert was watching Alfred, eagerly, and when his father introduced him, he gave Alfred a funny look, like he was trying not to laugh. Herbert's voice was like a purr. "And finally, my boredom will be relieved." He very suddenly wrapped an arm around Alfred's shoulders and pulled him into the castle.

Alfred panicked and tried to squirm away, but Herbert was monstrously strong and kept a firm grip on him until they were in a grand entry hall. Alfred swung his head around and was a bit comforted to see the professor walking in behind them at the side of Count Von Krolock. Alfred slipped out from under Herbert's arm as quickly as he could and rushed back to Professor Abronsius who just kept talking with Count Von Krolock as if there was nothing unusual going on at all. He tried to follow when Professor Abronsius was led away to his chambers, but Count Von Krolock called to him.

What followed… Alfred didn't understand. He knew he was rather stupid, but he just didn't understand whatever Count Von Krolock was talking about when he'd spoken about darkness and desire and morality. Alfred was so pleased when Count Von Krolock dismissed him that he fairly ran out of the room. He was only pleased until he realized he was lost in the dimly lit halls of the castle and had no idea where Koukol and Herbert had taken Professor Abrosius.

Alfred wandered for a few minutes before he came across Koukol who was trying to clean. As a result of his deformity, Koukol couldn't stand upright. He stood bent nearly in half, and yet there he was trying to dust cobwebs out of high corners when it was hard for him to just stand on the ladder. It was no wonder the castle was a mess if they relied on poor Koukol to do everything. Alfred felt badly about his initial fear of Koukol. How hard life must be if something so simple as dusting was a terrible effort?

"Do you want some help?" Alfred asked.

Koukol looked at him, sharply, and seemed to be trying to figure out if Alfred was up to anything.

"I can help." Alfred smiled. "I do all the cleaning for the professor. I've had lots of practice."

Though he still seemed suspicious, Koukol gave his duster to Alfred and watched as Alfred climbed the small ladder he'd been using. After a moment, the chore was done and Alfred handed the duster back to Koukol.

"That was very kind," Herbert's voice made Alfred start. "Not everyone is polite to our Koukol." He paused for a moment and seemed to consider Alfred. "You're a very good person." Herbert waved a hand at Koukol. "Get some rest. You've been busy, tonight."

Koukol made a bobbing motion with his head and left without a word, though he did take a minute to give Alfred a puzzled look.

Herbert said, "I thought you might need a hand to find your chambers. Father is a little preoccupied and may have forgotten that you don't know your way around." Herbert was all smiles and motioned for Alfred to walk with him. "The professor is safely in his own room, so you needn't worry about him. I'll just have to see you to your bed." He kept glancing at Alfred as they walked. "Perhaps I can bring you a drink before bed. I'm sure you must be the type to like it strong and… hot. Something to be savored in bed. Or maybe you'd like something to eat. I can give you a sausage. I have a very big one, long and juicy."

Alfred twitched. There was something about the way Herbert spoke that made Alfred think decidedly naughty thoughts. Here Herbert was trying to be kind and Alfred couldn't help but misinterpret Herbert's perfectly innocent words.

"I'm not very hungry, thank you." Alfred did know to use his manners when dealing with nobility, even if that nobility might be a monster. "Just tired. I can sleep on the floor in the professor's room; it's what I usually do."

Herbert put his nose in the air. "On the floor? If father found out I was letting a guest sleep on the floor, I think he'd beat me. No, you shall have a room of your own. I can help make you comfortable, there. We'll get a nice cheery fire going on the hearth. I'd be very happy to fluff your pillow."

Alfred opened his mouth to tell Herbert that really wasn't necessary because the idea of Herbert spending any length of time in Alfred's room seemed somehow like a bad idea. Before he could say anything, Herbert said,

"Tell me about yourself. From the way you speak, I'd say you were English. Yes? However did you come to be traveling with a German scholar to Transylvania? Is Professor Abronsius your father? Or perhaps your grandfather?"

"N-no." Alfred swallowed hard and hugged the professor's case to his chest, as if that would protect him from Herbert's eyes. "No, we're not related. Not really. I… he found me at…" It was so hard to explain, but Herbert wouldn't stop staring and Alfred had the very distinct feeling that he wouldn't until he got a satisfactory answer. Alfred could lie, of course, but he just wasn't very good at it and tended to get all flustered when he tried to lie. "He took me in. I have no family." He really didn't want to talk about the poorhouse.

"You poor dear." Herbert put a sympathetic arm around Alfred as they walked. "Still, he is good to you, I suppose."

Alfred nodded. "Oh, yes. I work for him so he feeds me. He makes sure I have clothes." It was more than anyone else had ever done for Alfred and he was very grateful for every little kindness the professor gave him. "I've been with him since I was fourteen – five years, now."

"And how did you meet?"

There was no need to tell a stranger about things he wouldn't understand. How could Herbert - who dressed so finely, lived in a castle, and looked as if he'd never had a care in the world greater than what color waistcoat he would wear – possibly understand what it was to be poor? He couldn't know that Alfred had spent so long on the streets of London starving until some well-meaning soul had delivered him to the local poorhouse. He'd wished many times to die there. It had been a terrible place. He remembered people screaming as their families were separated, children crying for their mothers. He remembered long, long hours of work and sleeping on infested bedding. He remembered being so cold in the winter that he thought he might never wake up if he fell asleep. Everything and everyone was always dirty. Sickness had decimated the place on more than one occasion.

Alfred hugged the professor's bag just a little tighter. "He needed an assistant, so he took me in and gave me a place. I'm indebted to him. I'll serve him as long as I may, I suppose. He even taught me to read a little and how to speak German so I could help him with his work."

Herbert didn't look very impressed.

Alfred had been so pathetically grateful when the foreign professor had arrived at the poorhouse looking for a willing assistant that he had never looked too hard at the fact that Professor Abronsius had, in fact, bought him. There had been an exchange of money between the professor and the warden before Alfred was told that he was to do as the professor said in all things. Alfred had known, even back then, that no matter what the professor had asked him to do, it could never be as bad as the Hell that was life in the poor house.

Herbert stopped at a door. "This is your room. Are you sure you wouldn't like some help getting comfortable? Your clothes are wet, still. And just look at you shiver. You should take those wet things off. Mother always used to say it isn't healthy to sit around all wet. I can draw you a hot bath."

A hot bath sounded very nice, and he was still freezing, Alfred was fairly certain that Professor Abronsius would be a bit unhappy if he discovered Alfred was getting friendly with the enemy. And the idea of any kind of nobility – vampire or not – waiting on him like a servant was unnerving. So he thanked Herbert, but refused.

"As you wish," Herbert nodded his head and moved closer to Alfred. He moved so close that Alfred was forced back a step and pressed his back against the door to prevent them from touching. Herbert whispered with a sly grin, "Just call if you want me to scrub your back, darling."

Alfred's eyes shot wide open when Herbert winked at him before he turned and walked away.

Realization came to Alfred slowly. His mouth fell open and he stared after Herbert until he disappeared around a corner.

Flirting? Herbert had been flirting with him?

It was an entirely new experience for Alfred.

Alfred moaned in despair. "What have I done?" Professor Abronsius had warned him to keep away from the young lord or risk influencing him. Despite his best efforts, Alfred had somehow said or did something to make Herbert think… and now Herbert was…. "Oh, no!" Alfred tipped his head back until it banged against the door. "I've corrupted poor Herbert!"

 **To be continued…**


	2. Forbidden

**Chapter 2: Forbidden**

Utterly miserable and disgusted with himself for what he'd done to Herbert, Alfred went into the room Herbert had given him. Just inside, he stopped and stared. It was beautiful. There were warm carpets on the floor with a whole rainbow of colors woven into pretty designs. Unlike most of the castle, the room looked as if it had been recently cleaned, scrubbed from top to bottom. A huge window that stretched nearly from the high ceiling right to the floor overlooked the night of Transylvania and, far below Alfred could dimly see the lights from Sarah's village. The bed - oh, the bed! - Alfred had never had such luxury!

Alfred set the professor's bag down and walked slowly towards the bed, as if he were afraid it would be taken away if he should get too excited. But it didn't disappear. There were four blankets on the bed and two pillows. The bed linens were soft and crisp, bright white. He ran his hand over one of the pillowcases and smiled. It was lovely!

A glass lantern in a brazier lit the room, reflecting off a large mirror hung on the wall. There was a washroom, a splendid affair with a water pump right at the large tub so water didn't have to be hauled into the room. The fireplace was empty and cold, but there was wood near it and a box of matches on the mantle. On the bed, laid out neatly, was a white nightshirt. It was soft flannel, so cozy that Alfred just knew he'd be warm and toasty all night even if he didn't light a fire.

It was the most wonderful place he'd ever seen!

No one had ever been so generous as to allow him to use a room like that.

"Alfred!"

Alfred jump and spun around to find Professor Abronsius standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing in here? I had to hunt all over to find you." He walked into the room, eyeing it with interest.

"This is where Herbert said I was to stay."

"A mistake, without a doubt. This is no servant's room. Come." He gestured imperiously for Alfred to follow him . Then paused and looked at Alfred with a disapproving frown. "Herbert? Are you so familiar with the young lord, then?"

"No. No, sir."

"I thought not. You will get out of there this minute and don't forget why you are even here. You MY assistant which means you will assist me, not lounge around in idleness. And you will not forget that Count Von Krolock and his son are monsters. They are not to be trusted."

"But, sir," Alfred couldn't help but protest. "What if we're making a mistake? I saw the count in the room with Sarah, but he might have been trying to kiss her. I didn't actually see any fangs. And we haven't seen any sign at all of Herbert being a monster. Sarah's father might have been attacked by someone else." Yes, Alfred had been afraid of the count, but Alfred was afraid of a lot of things and people.

"Are you doubting my expertise?"

"Oh, no sir, of course not."

"Then come along and stop talking such nonsense."

Alfred rushed after the professor when he left the room and obediently followed along behind. After all, Professor Abronsius was right – being given such a splendid room was probably a mistake. And if Herbert had made a mistake and taken Alfred to the wrong room, he wouldn't want Herbert to get in trouble with the count if Alfred was discovered sleeping where he shouldn't be.

 **Herbert –**

Humming happily to himself, Herbert strolled down the hall of the castle with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. While he couldn't drink it, he could pretend just to be sociable with Alfred. He didn't bother to check his outfit or his hair as he knew that he – as always – looked impeccable. He'd put a little perfume on after showing Alfred to his room and put in his favorite ruby earrings, but nothing else. Why mettle with perfection?

He'd been thrilled when he'd been introduced to his father's guests, so happy to see that wide-eyed young man standing at the castle gates. Alfred was not exactly handsome, perhaps, but he was very cute. He had a little nose and cheeks that were rosy from wandering in cold night. His clothes were plain, but clean and well-kept. He stood in front there, all awkward and bashful and was so delightful that it was all Herbert could do not to pounce on him at once.

Once back at the room he'd left Alfred at, Herbert stopped humming and stood up as straight and tall as he could. Good impressions were important and he found he wanted Alfred to think very well of him.

The door to the room was open. Herbert peeked into the room and saw the bed still empty and the lantern's flame still brightening the room. The night shirt he'd left out for Alfred was rumpled and that made Herbert grin. How lovely if he'd caught Alfred in the bath.

"Alfred?" He knocked on the door and sang out the young man's name. "Alfred, may I come in? I've brought you something. I thought you might have changed your mind about a drink."

No answer.

"Alfred? Have you fallen asleep in the bath?" When there still came no answer, Herbert crept into the room. Other than the rumpled nightshirt, there was no evidence at all of Alfred. Herbert set the wine and the glasses on the mantel and snuck to a small wall that shielded the bathing area from the rest of the room. Alfred wasn't there, either. The bath was dry. Frowning, Herbert looked all around the room, even resorting to checking under the bed and in the wardrobe, but there was no sign of Alfred.

Herbert pouted. "Damn."

 **Alfred-**

Professor Abronsius fell asleep quickly. Alfred had helped the man get ready for bed, taking his clothes and folding them neatly to avoid wrinkles, then set about making himself a place to sleep. He couldn't help but regret the loss of the other room, but it was for the best. And the room he would share with Professor Abronsius was very nice, too. There was a window that looked out on a valley and the fire was very comfortable.

When the professor was sound asleep, Alfred sat in front of the fire with his cold toes as close as he could get. He'd taken his wet socks off and set them on the hearth as near as he dared to get them dry then took his pants off and lay them over the arm of a chair he'd moved closer to the fireplace. They'd be dry very shortly and, in the meanwhile, he was warming very quickly without the wet clothes on. His shirt, luckily, hadn't gotten a bit wet, so he sat in his shirt and watched the fire jump and dance. By spreading his coat on the rug in front of the fire and using the professor's bag as a pillow, he was very satisfied with the little bed he made for himself.

Settled at last after a very long day, Alfred's thoughts returned back to what he'd been trying to avoid thinking about.

Herbert.

Even after thinking about it, he still didn't know what he'd done to make Herbert start behaving in such a way. Maybe things were different for vampires and such things were of no concern. After all, the professor said that vampires were already dead and damned. Maybe more sin didn't make any difference for them. No matter what the answer was, Alfred's problem remained – he had been a bad influence and it made him feel sick. Bad enough that he was filled up with evil, but now he'd inflicted it to someone else. The other problem was that as soon as Count Von Krolock found out, he was going to kill Alfred. Hang him from the highest rafters, just like the professor had said. And the count… he was about the scariest person Alfred had ever met. Alfred still had to rescue Sarah, too, and he hadn't even seen her since they'd arrived.

Alfred started chewing his thumbnail. He just didn't know what do about any of it.

A knock on the door had Alfred scrambling to his feet to answer it so the noise wouldn't wake the professor. He threw open the door and found Herbert on the other side. He was smiling at Alfred and held a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other.

"Oh, sir." Alfred stumbled a bit with his manners as he was still brooding over how they'd parted ways. "Can I help you?"

Herbert kept smiling.

"Sir?" Alfred said, after an awkward moment. "Sir?"

Herbert sighed then gave himself a little shake. "Oh, pardon me. I was just admiring the view."

"View?" Alfred turned to look out the window before looking back at Herbert, puzzled.

"Not that view, darling." Herbert pointed at Alfred and then down.

When Alfred followed the direction of Herbert's finger and looked down at himself where his shirt barely covered his dignity. He was reminded with painful clarity that he'd taken his trousers off to dry. Horrified, Albert slammed the door closed in Herbert's face.

The noise woke Professor Abronsius. "Alfred? What was that?"

Alfred panicked. How could he explain why he was answering the door without his pants to Herbert who stood there with wine and an all too-pleased smile?

"Nothing, sir. Nothing. I'm sorry." In a panic, he struggled to pull his still damp trousers back on. "I just… I need to go out for a minute. I'll be right back."

But the professor was already back asleep and snoring loudly.

Herbert was still waiting at the door and he pouted when he saw Alfred properly dressed. "Shame." He muttered. "Ah, well. I had come by to ask if you'd changed your mind about a drink. It's a very good year. " He held out the bottle for Alfred to look at, but Alfred wouldn't know good wine from vinegar, so he said nothing. "No?" He seemed truly disappointed and Alfred felt a pang of guilt for having caused it. "I was worried when I couldn't find you where I left you. Did you not like my room?"

Alfred stepped out to join Herbert in the hall and closed the door softly behind him to prevent the professor from being woken a second time. "It was a very nice… wait. Your room?"

"Of course. It is the best in the castle and I thought it might be the most comfortable for you. Was something wrong with it?"

"No, not at all. It was a wonderful room, but it's yours."

"And I want you to use it."

Alfred swallowed, hard. "But where would you sleep?"

Herbert grinned. "I sure something would have… come up."

Alfred had the distinct feeling that he was missing something in what Herbert had said, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "I can't take your bed. That would be horribly rude." Not to mention what the professor might think if he knew Alfred had slept in Herbert's room. He might think Alfred was being a bad influence, again. But it wasn't as if Herbert could see the horrible thoughts running around in Alfred's head, so all Alfred had to do was stay calm and act normal. "Besides, I must stay with Professor Abronsius. He needs me. But I do thank you for the kindness."

Herbert looked mightily put out. "Won't you even wear the nightshirt I left for you?"

"I don't need to. I'll sleep by the fire tonight and my clothes will dry well enough."

Herbert sniffed, disdainfully. "That's my favorite nightshirt, you know. You would sleep better in something soft and warm. Please?"

It was the please that did it. Alfred paused and considered. He knew his manners. He knew how he should behave as befit his station in life and, yet, there was the son of a count wanting to do something for him. He couldn't refuse his betters, especially not nobility, even if he wasn't altogether sure if that person was human or not. And what if refusing made Herbert angry? What would Professor Abronsius do to Alfred if he made Herbert so angry that Herbert convinced Count Von Krolock to throw them out of the castle? The professor didn't want him associating with Herbert, but all Herbert was doing was offering a nightshirt and the professor had not hesitated to use the nightshirt set out for him. It wasn't such a terrible thing, especially if it kept them on the good side of the count at least until they could rescue Sarah. And, if none of the rest of that mattered, Alfred couldn't help but notice that Herbert was a good six inches taller than he was. Professor Abronsius had told him that vampires were monstrously strong and savage. If Alfred made Herbert angry, Herbert would probably rip him apart.

So, Alfred decided, it was best to use good manners and that meant accepting Herbert's offer. "Umm…well… I suppose…"

Herbert's face lit up like the sunrise. He thrust the wine bottle and glasses into Alfred's hands, then took hold of Alfred's arm and tugged him down the hall. "I knew you'd see it my way! And while we're in my room, I think you should make use of the bathtub to wash. And we can have that wine while we chat."

"What? Oh, thank you, but I don't think that's a good idea. It's late and I don't… wine doesn't agree with me. I get all lightheaded and dizzy and I always have a headache the next morning."

"Really?" Herbert kept smiling. "Well, I'm sure I can think of something else we can do that will make you all lightheaded and dizzy, but without the headache in the morning."

"What sort of something?"

But Herbert just smiled and walked on. He threw open the door of his room as soon as they reached it and took the bottle and glasses from Alfred, setting them on a tiny table next to the bed. "Why are you in the doorway, darling? Won't you come in?"

Knowing that the room was Herbert's made Alfred feel as if he were an intruder, but he was invited, so he hesitantly stepped in.

Herbert didn't immediately hand Alfred the nightshirt as Alfred had hoped – he saw it laying just as he'd left it on the bed. He wanted to take it and go, to get away from Herbert before the professor woke and found that Alfred was disobeying him in associating with the count's son. But Herbert was puttering around the room. He stirred up the fire and took off his boots and gloves, setting them on a dressing table.

Alfred's apprehension grew by the second. He absolutely sure that the more time he spent with Herbert, the greater chance there was for something terrible to happen.

After a few very long minutes, Herbert picked up the nightshirt and folded it very carefully into a neat little armful and handed it to Alfred.

"Alfred, dear," Herbert clasped his hands in front of himself. "Ever since I laid eyes on you when you arrived at our doorstep, I have felt something within."

Alfred felt his stomach drop in dread.

"I can't stop thinking about your face and those huge eyes that look at me so earnestly."

No. Alfred swallowed, hard. Herbert knew it was Alfred who had influenced him.

"I find that I want to -"

Alfred couldn't stand it. "I'm so sorry!" Alfred hugged the nightshirt to his chest and tensed all over as guilt swamped him. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened, but I didn't mean it. I never wanted it to happen to you."

"What?"

Alfred could feel his heart beating too fast. Alfred squeezed the nightshirt so hard his fingers started to hurt. He just couldn't stand the idea that he'd ruined someone. Alright, Herbert was a vampire and probably went around killing people, but that didn't mean Alfred had to add more trouble for him. He didn't understand how such a sin could be passed on, as if it were a common cold, but if the professor felt the need to warn Alfred not to influence the count's son, that clearly meant that it was contagious. Alfred just want to crawl into a hole and be forgotten. "I didn't mean it. I won't come near you again. I'll stay away from you."

"What?! No, that's not…"

Alfred shook his head. "It's the best way, I think. I'll keep away from you. You won't even know I'm in the castle, honest."

"I really don't think.."

"Try not to worry. Just don't let your father find out and you'll be fine. You won't see me, again, I promise!" And Alfred turned on his heel and took off running down the hall. He wasn't sure if it would help Herbert, but it was all he could do.

 **Herbert-**

Herbert watched Alfred run off and muttered to himself, "What a very strange young man." Then he smiled. "I like him."

 **Alfred-**

Alfred didn't get far. He'd just turned a corner, just out of sight of Herbert's room, when he nearly slammed into a woman. He managed to dodge around her, but toppled over and crashed into a wall. His arm landed under him and it hurt marvelously where it struck the floor before it was squashed under his weight.

Groaning, Alfred sat up, still holding the nightshirt and his sore arm to his chest.

"Such a brazen disrespect."

The woman Alfred had nearly collided with was stunning, so beautiful that Alfred found his breath momentarily stolen away. She was tall and slim with the perfect amount of womanly curves and hair so bright and fair that it might have been gold. Her eyes, in contrast to her pallid skin and fair hair were dark brown, almost black. She was dressed in clothes that seemed far out of date, but it did nothing to detract from her beauty. She would have been a true goddess among women, if it weren't for the cold, baleful gaze she leveled at Alfred. He was, in that moment, so frightened that he could neither move nor speak.

"What does the good Count keep running about his home, now? A pet? A dog should be more of a companion, I would think. A cat would be useful in catching rats. What, pray, does this little beast do?"

Alfred came to himself and struggled to his feet. "I'm sorry. Very sorry. Your pardon, lady." Alfred bowed his head again and again as he began to inch his way away from her. "I didn't mean to… I was just…" He had the feeling that he definitely shouldn't let her know where the professor was sleeping. "I was looking for the library."

"Library? Does this beast read? A clever beast, then?" She smiled, but it was not a kind smile. There had been more warmth in Count Von Krolock's welcome in the snow. She started walking towards him. "You're lost, poor thing. Lost and alone and so very alive. I can hear the blood rushing in your veins." The woman raised a hand towards Alfred and Alfred bolted.

Alfred dashed around the woman and ran as fast as he could, completely overcome with fear. He couldn't say why, but she frightened him and he wanted to be far from her. It was altogether different than being frightened of the count or Herbert. He didn't understand them and they were very different, but this woman, she just wanted to kill him. He was sure of it and he wanted to be away from her as quickly as possible. So he ran. But she ran, too. He looked over his shoulder and saw that she raced after him, a terrible look on her face and her hands stretched out before her.

He couldn't go back to the professor's room and Herbert's room was well behind. Alfred didn't know anywhere else in the castle so he simply ran. He ran until his lungs pained him with every breath. He came to a room that must have, at one time, been a bedroom, but was so disused that huge, curtain-like spider webs hung in all the corners and a thick layer of dust covered every surface. It was almost entirely empty but for a bed covered in moth-eaten linens. Desperate, Alfred dove under the bed and prayed silently that the woman wouldn't guess he'd gone into the room, but continue passed it.

She didn't.

From where he lay under the bed on his stomach, Alfred could see the woman's long dress where it brushed against the floor with every step she took closer to the bed. "I can smell you in here, little beast." Alfred watched her walk closer to his hiding spot, his little shoes peeking out from under the hem of her dress with every step. "Your stink fills the air."

Stink?

She took two more steps and was so close to Alfred's hiding place that he could have very easily reached out and touched her foot.

"Come out, little beast. I'm so hungry."

Alfred was so frightened that he thought he might faint. He tried holding his breath so she wouldn't hear him, but if she could smell him, if there was no hiding…

"Charlotte!" Count Von Krolock's voice shot out and Alfred saw another pair of shoes appear in the doorway behind the woman. Then he continued in a voice that seemed far too calm. "Why are you frightening my guest?" The Count stepped into the room, his long cloak moving around his feet with every step, as if it were alive. "I have personally invited him into my home and I am certain that I spoke to all of you about him. My guests are under my personal protection. Was I unclear in my instructions?"

"No," Charlotte didn't sound happy. "Of course not, Excellency. I meant no offense."

"I'm so very pleased to hear it." Count Von Krolock's voice was hard as stone. Then he fell silent and, from where Alfred lay, it seemed that the two of them stared at one another until Charlotte clearly accepted her dismissal and left, striding out of the room with long, graceful steps.

Alfred let out a breath of relief and closed his eyes, shocked at the close call with death.

"Alfred?"

Alfred's head shot up as he realized that the count hadn't followed Charlotte, but had stayed behind.

"Are you hurt, Alfred?"

Again, good manners forced Alfred to answer. "I'm alright."

"Do you think you can come out from under the bed?"

"Ummm…"

"There's no one here but you and I. You are safe, now."

He didn't feel safe. He was shaking and couldn't stop. His heart still raced and he felt like it might leap right out of his mouth or fail altogether at any moment.

The count's long-fingered hand appeared in front of Alfred's face. "Please, come out. You are safe."

Because he had no real choice – the count could just reach under the bed and drag Alfred out, if he wished to – Alfred crawled forward enough on his elbows that he could peek out from under the bed and saw the count looking down at him. He didn't take the count's hand, but did cautiously pull himself out from his hiding spot.

"Good boy, Alfred. Very brave."

He didn't feel brave as he stood there, covered in dust, holding Herbert's nightshirt to his chest like a child might cuddle a doll for comfort. Alfred held up Herbert's nightshirt. "Your son lent this to me."

"I'm frankly shocked that's all he gave you." Count Von Krolock shook his head and laughed a little, but Alfred didn't understand what was funny about it.

"I am sorry about all this. I was trying to get back to the professor's room. I didn't know you had other guests. I didn't mean to cause you trouble."

"You caused no trouble at all. Charlotte knows quite well not to bother my personal guests. She and a few others have come to celebrate the season. It's an annual get-together for old acquaintances." He led Alfred out of the room, then said, "Come with me and I'll show you the way."

They walked in silence through the long corridors of the castle, lit here and there with lanterns hung on the walls. Eventually, the count stopped walking by a door. "Here is your professor's room. Herbert told me that you choose to sleep on the floor in his room rather than have your own."

"I'm used to it, Excellency. It's where I normally sleep. Thank you for the offer of a room." It occurred to Alfred that perhaps he should have been more afraid of Count Von Krolock being so close, but at that moment he was simply relieved to have him there as a way to keep Charlotte away.

He turned to Count Von Krolock and knew he had to say something. The professor likely wouldn't be happy for Alfred to become friendly with the enemy, but the Count had appeared right when Alfred needed help and he didn't have to help; Charlotte must have been a friend of his if he'd invited her to his home and, according to the story that the professor had provided when they'd appeared at the castle gates, he and Alfred were just wandering by and had been graciously allowed to take shelter in the castle. The count owed Alfred nothing, least of all help. After all, not only was Alfred a stranger, but he was entirely unimportant. So he looked Count Von Krolock in the eyes, if only for a moment before nerves made him look down at the count's feet, and gave him a quietly sincere, "Thank you, Excellency. For making her go."

Count Von Krolock looked like he might laugh. "You're quite welcome, young Alfred. I will advise my other guests, again, to leave you and your professor alone. And you and your professor ought to keep yourselves safe by not venturing too deeply into my castle at night. Do you understand?"

Alfred nodded quickly. "Yes. I'll remember and I'll tell the professor. Honestly, though, I'm sorry I bothered your friend."

He raised an eyebrow at Alfred. "I was not even slightly worried that YOU had bothered HER, Alfred. Charlotte is not so much a friend as someone I have known for quite a long time. It was expected for me to invite her to this little celebration."

"All the same, I am sorry that you had to be bothered."

"For such a young man," the count continued. "You have very nice manners, Alfred."

"Thank you, Excellency." And though he knew it was a long shot, Alfred had to ask, "Will you let me take Sarah back to her home, please?"

"Again, so polite." Count Von Krolock patted Alfred on the head as if he were a favored pet. "But, no. Sarah came here of her own free will and that is the only way she will leave."

"Then, may I speak with her?"

"Soon. Sleep well, Alfred."

"Yes." Alfred's voice sound small, weak. "Thank you, Excellency."

When the count had gone, Alfred went back into the professor's room as quietly as he could and went back to sit by the fire. The professor still slept like a log. Alfred had no idea what to do about Sarah, but the count must surely be lying when he'd said that Sarah had gone to him willingly, that she hadn't been kidnapped, but had run away. That, he was sure, had to be a lie. Because Sarah's father had been frantic with terror for her when she'd disappeared, so desperate to protect his only child that he'd gone to the castle, which he'd clearly dreaded. Sarah's mother had cried for hours, first for her daughter and then for her dead husband. She'd mourned so bitterly, so deeply… no one could do that to their parents. Alfred knew that if he had parents, he would have sooner died than cause them pain. How could anyone hurt people who loved them as dearly as Sarah's parents unmistakably loved her?

But how could he fight the count? He couldn't hope to equal the strength of a vampire. And if, as the count had suggested in their earlier conversation, there were many other vampires somewhere in the castle, then he was completely outmatched. The only hope he could see was trying to slip away during the daylight hours. So, he told himself, he would wait until daybreak and then find Sarah. And, with luck, sleep would bring him some clarity and help him understand why the monsters didn't seem as monstrous as he'd expected.

Alfred was glad for the warmth of the fire and quickly stripped his wet clothes off, again. He hadn't really warmed up from their journey up to the castle and putting the wet clothes back on had only made it worse. Wandering the cold halls of the castle hadn't helped, either. Herbert's nightshirt was very welcome and while he tried not to think too hard about the morality of accepting kindness from monsters, it was warm and very comfortable and, quite soon, he was asleep on the floor, dreaming.

 **Elsewhere-**

Charlotte stood at the ramparts of the castle and looked out at the mountainous countryside. Her memory was strong – she could still almost smell the human, still feel the whisper of his fear against her skin. While Von Krolock protected the human, for the time being, she was patient and could wait. Sooner or later, she would have him. She would have that delicious, forbidden temptation.

 **To be continued…**


	3. Cold Stone

**Chapter 3: Cold Stone**

Herbert spun Alfred around the room in a lively dance. His strength was unspeakable. It wasn't just that he had the unnatural strength of a vampire; when they were dancing Alfred's hands had been on Herbert's arms and he'd felt, under the thin shirt, corded muscles. Herbert's shirt had been partially opened at the top and revealed - deliberately or not - a broad muscled chest. Even his neck was thick and strong. He was, Alfred had realized, built like a blacksmith under his effeminate façade. And then, very suddenly, Alfred found himself on his back on the floor. Herbert pinned Alfred's arms and legs down and his eyes flashed with something hot and dangerous. His teeth had grown into terrible fangs.

Alfred screamed and then Professor Abronsius was there and startled Herbert so badly that the scary 'something' burning in his eyes vanished like a ghost. He was suddenly just Herbert, again, and hurried to get away from Professor Abronsius' umbrella that he swung.

"What is this? Shame on the both of you!" Professor Abronsius shouted, irate. "Hell and damnation! Phooey! " He turned on Alfred, who was just getting to his feet. He threw his leather bag, forcing Alfred to catch it or let it fall and damage all the tools within. "And you! What do you think you're doing?! I am shocked! Utterly shocked! Did you encourage him at all?" He stared purposefully just below Alfred's waist.

Embarrassed, Alfred lowered the professor's bag to cover himself and protested, "No! No, sir. I didn't do anything." He didn't think he'd done anything 'encouraging'.

Even when they left the room and Herbert well behind, the professor couldn't contain his displeasure. As they rushed down the halls of the castle, the professor berated Alfred, "How many times have I told you? How many?"

"Lots, sir, lots." Alfred hurried as quickly as he could, almost running down the corridors. His heart was still racing and his hands still shaking, but he didn't dare stop moving. The professor was right behind him and his temper hadn't cooled a bit.

"And now I find you rolling around on the floor with a man? A vampire?!"

"But it wasn't my fault!" Alfred cried, even as he saw the professor's room in sight and felt sick with dread. "Honestly, sir, I didn't mean for anything to happen." He went into the professor's room and immediately turned to face the professor, keeping as much space between them as he could. He held his hands up in front of himself.

Professor Abronsius closed the door behind him. "You didn't mean for it to happen?" His eyes went dangerously narrow under his thick eyebrows. "Are you trying to tell me that you just happened to slip, land on your back and the vampire just happened to fall on top of you?"

"No, sir. No. Of course not, but…"

Professor Abronsius lashed out with his umbrella. The metal tip on the end caught Alfred on the calf and made him yelp with pain.

"Should I expect Count Von Krolock to arrive and throw us out of his castle because you couldn't keep away from his son? Or perhaps, seeing as it is still night, they will just descend upon us and kill us. They are monsters, Alfred! You will get no pity or kindness from them, no forgiveness for mistakes." The professor's voice was hissed out between his teeth. "Such a short while I needed you to behave and this is what I get? This is what I get for taking you in, sheltering you and feeding you and teaching you? This is how you reward me? How ungrateful can you be?"

"I'm not. I promise, I'm very grateful. I just wandered into the wrong room and he was there and I didn't want to make him angry."

"Well, I think you succeeded there." All the while that he spoke, the professor moved closer and closer until Alfred found himself backed into a corner.

"Put the bag down, Alfred. You know you deserve this."

Reluctantly and already on the verge of tears, Alfred did as he was told. As he knew what was coming, he also took off his red jacket and his shirt and his smart red tie. He lay them carefully on the bed to avoid ruining them.

Alfred was an adult. The thought drifted through Alfred's panicking mind. He was an adult, a grown man. He was old enough to get married and have children. He was younger and stronger than the professor, but somehow, Professor Abronsius always made him feel very small and weak. He never felt strong when the professor had to let him know how disappointed he was. He should be stronger, Alfred knew. How many other adults would take such treatment laying down? Anyone else would just walk away and let the old man yell, but Alfred just couldn't. His whole life revolved around the professor and had for years. Why, when the professor had first taken him out of the poorhouse, he had kept Alfred inside his own home for almost a full year and hadn't even allowed him to talk to anyone until he had, as the professor had explained to Alfred, learned how to behave properly. When Alfred tried to think of life without the professor telling him what to do and how to do it, he drew a blank. So, Alfred, adult though he may have been, stayed with Professor Abronsius because he didn't know what else to do.

Professor Abronsius said, "Turn around and face the wall, Alfred. If you make so much as a single noise - so help me! – you'll get double!"

Alfred did as he was told and braced his hands against the wall.

The first blow of Professor Abronsius' umbrella against Alfred's back made him stagger forward until his face was pressed against the stone wall. He didn't make a sound. Two blows, then four, then ten. And then it was over.

Alfred sagged and saw spots dancing in front of his eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten a beating, but he thought it might have been the worst. And why shouldn't it be? Alfred had done such wrong and might have spoiled all the professor's chances of proving his theories about vampires. It was the professor's life's work and he had every reason to be angry at Alfred.

And even though Alfred knew it, a small part of him whispered that he hadn't done anything wrong. He did NOT deserve such treatment. But that voice was small and Alfred could barely hear it. What he did hear was a much louder voice that shouted about how Alfred just wasn't good enough for the professor. No matter how grateful he was or how obedient he tried to be, he simply wasn't good enough. If only he were smarter, he just knew it would be so much easier to be good. If he was smarter, he would have been able to think of a way to make that encounter with Herbert go differently… without him ending up on his back under Herbert. If he was smarter he'd be of more help to Professor Abronsius. If he was smarter, he could be a real assistant and actually help the professor with his work rather than being a mere servant, a strong body to haul luggage, wash laundry, and procure food. Yes, if he had been smarter, the professor might have valued him more highly. Instead, there he was, leaning against a wall like a chastised child with his eyes closed and his breath coming in labored gasps and his back nothing but a mass of pain because the professor had to teach him how a good person was to behave. He couldn't have been more ashamed.

"I want you to leave the room, Alfred."

Alfred's head shot up and he turned to stare at the professor. "What? Leave?"

"I am too angry with you to bear you in the room. Return in the morning and we will continue the search of this castle. Now, go."

"But… vampires."

Professor Abronsius turned away from Alfred.

There was no choice. Alfred gathered his shirt and jacket and tie with his still-shaking hands and left the room. Professor Abronsius closed the door behind him.

For a long while, Alfred stood in the hall with his bundle of clothes in his arms and stared at the professor's closed door. Without the warmth of the fire, the castle was near frigid. The stone all seemed to radiate cold. There was nowhere he could go. Slowly, he pulled his shirt and jacket on, and then tied his red tie around his throat. Such simple tasks were remarkably hard with his hurting back. Then, he sat on the floor and carefully leaned back to rest his back against the cold stone wall. The cold felt good as it seeped through his clothes and started to soothe some of the pain.

"There you are."

Alfred looked up and found Herbert standing over him. The memory of earlier in the evening as too fresh and he cringed and let out a little whimper.

"Sweetheart," Herbert said in a rush while he hurried to Alfred's side. "I was worried after you left. I didn't mean to be so forward, honestly. I just got carried away." Herbert, once he reached Alfred's side, sat on his knees and reached out a hand as if he would touch Alfred's face, but he stopped when Alfred flinched. Herbert put both hands on his lap. "If I scared you… before… I'm sorry."

Alfred looked at Herbert, shocked. An apology. No one apologized to him. No one had ever done that. He couldn't remember a single apology given to him in his whole life. It was so unexpected, that he had no idea what to say and, so, kept silent.

Herbert peered closely at Alfred. "You've been crying! What happened? Why are you out here?"

"Professor Abronsius is cross with me."

Herbert was staring, questioningly.

Alfred really didn't want to explain, but Herbert was still staring. So Alfred let out a loud, long sigh and knew he'd have to explain. He turned his head this way and that, looking around to be certain they were alone in the halls before he whispered, "Professor Abronsius knows I have an evil in me that makes me well… l-like other men the way I should only like women. And now, because I've been around you, my wickedness has affected you, too. It's very wrong to… well… to fancy other men. Don't you know that? Professor saw us in your room and he thought," Alfred blushed bright red at the idea. "He thought I was trying to seduce you."

Herbert's eyes widened and a smile blossomed on his lips. "Darling, if that was your idea of seduction, you need a lot more practice." He paused, then grinned. "I'll be happy to help you get that practice. Besides, even if you were trying to seduce me, it's hardly any of his business, is it?"

"Of course it's his business," Alfred said. "I belong to him. I have to do what he tells me. And you shouldn't give in to such temptation; your father will be very angry if he finds out. What if he gets so angry that he tries to kill you?" It had happened, Alfred knew. Professor Abronsius had told him so.

Herbert's smiled disappeared. "My father would never hurt me." Then he paused and quietly asked, "Has your professor hurt you?"

"Only my back." It didn't occur to Alfred not to answer. After all, it wasn't as if Professor Abronsius had done anything wrong. "My back's just a little sore from when he hit me with his umbrella. The stone's cold and makes it feel better."

The look that settled on Herbert's face was something that Alfred couldn't understand – angry and sad and scared all at once. It made Alfred's anxiety rise. He wanted to run, though it had done little to help the situation the last time he'd run from Herbert, but he had nowhere to go. He didn't think it would end well if he tried to get back into the professor's room.

Herbert closed his eyes, then nodded. After a minute he stood up and, taking hold of Alfred's shoulders, he pulled Alfred to his feet, also. The move was abysmally painful and made Alfred lose his breath momentarily. Then Herbert grabbed one of Alfred's hands and briskly began walking, towing Alfred behind him. With very little choice in the matter, Alfred let himself be led until he was completely lost. After a time, he found his voice and said,

"His Excellency said I shouldn't go wandering around at night – it's not safe." Alfred certainly didn't want to meet Charlotte, again.

"No one will bother you when you're with me." Herbert's voice was tight, angry. He kept pulling Alfred. Without warning, he called out, "Father!" He went a few more yards down the hall, then pushed open one of the large doors and Alfred found himself in a room he didn't recognize. It was clean, like Herbert's room had been, but somehow more somber. The room was lit with candles on a large candelabra, several lanterns, and a fire on the hearth and all that light made it a bright and warm space. Herbert strode into the room, still pulling Alfred. "Father!"

"I'm here, son. What is it you are making such a din about?" There the count sat in a high-back chair in a corner of the room. A large book, free of the dust that covered the books in the library, sat on his lap and he looked up when Herbert and Alfred approach. "Stop pulling my guest; you're about to take him off his feet."

Herbert didn't stop, though. He went right on until he stood right in front of the count and looked down at him very seriously, still holding Alfred's hand. "Father, I think it is quite time for me to get married."

The count glanced at Alfred with an amused little smile before facing his son. "Is that so?"

"To a girl."

The count blinked at Herbert, then rose to his feet and put a hand against Herbert's forehead. "Are you ill?"

"No, I'm well. Will you be happy if I marry a girl?"

"Is this a joke?"

"No, but I thought I'd bring up the idea because my sweet Alfred, here, seems to be afraid that he is responsible for turning my taste in romance to an unnatural bent and that you going to murder me for it." Herbert looked at his father with wide eyes. "Is it true, father? Will you kill me if I give some attentions to a handsome young lad?"

The count rolled his eyes. "Is that what this is about?" He then looked at Alfred who wanted to be anywhere but there.

The professor's warnings were very loud in his head. The count would kill him. He was going to die and no one would ever miss him. He would never even be remembered. But the count didn't seem a bit angry.

"Alfred," Count Von Krolock said, patiently. "I am well aware of Herbert's taste in companionship and it doesn't bother me in the slightest. There is nothing for you to fret about."

It felt as if Alfred's entire world crashed and shattered into pieces. "But… but it's a sin."

The count gave Alfred a significant look. "Dear boy, do you honestly think sin is a great concern to me?"

Alfred thought of Herbert's terrible fangs and how he'd seen Count Von Krolock leaning over Sarah in the inn's washroom. He thought of the count's passionate speech about giving up morality, being a magician, and something about a dark grail. He was forced to admit, "No. I suppose not, Excellency."

"Good. There are other things that concern me far more than who Herbert chooses to have a tumble with." He gave a chuckle. "And even if that weren't so, if I did believe that God was looking down on us, why should a god who is reportedly a loving god consider love a sin?"

Herbert, still agitated, burst out, "That professor beat him because he found us when I tried to be friendly with Alfred."

Alfred started at that. Herbert had been trying to do quite a bit more than be friendly.

The count looked sympathetic. "Poor little lad. Are you hurt badly?"

"No." Alfred shook his head. "It's not as bad as Herbert thinks. Professor Abronsius wants me to be smart and good. He's trying to teach me." Alfred brought his thumb to his mouth and chewed on his nail for a moment before he noticed what he was doing and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. "I don't learn very fast. But it was only a thrashing. Everyone's had one."

"True," the count agreed. "I could tell you some memorable times when I'd had to give my Herbert a sound belt for some thoughtless transgression. But I can also tell you that I made very certain he was not seriously harmed when all was said and done. Did your professor do that for you?"

Alfred opened his mouth, but he couldn't find anything to say that wouldn't make the professor look bad. It wasn't like they were suggesting, he knew. The professor wasn't cruel; he was harsh only because Alfred couldn't seem to learn anything. He got frustrated and impatient, but it wasn't his fault. It was Alfred's.

Herbert had no trouble finding words. "I found him in the hall, staring at that professor's door all forlorn, like a lost little mouse. He was cooling his aching back on the cold stone for comfort."

The count gave Alfred a disapproving look and Alfred felt that ever-present knot of unease in his stomach tighten. He understood why the professor was angry at him and accepted that he had done wrong, but now he'd done something to disappoint the count? And why should it matter to him if the count was disappointed? Herbert was angry, but Alfred couldn't guess why.

"Cold stone for comfort?" Count Von Krolock muttered, bitterly. "And he calls me a monster?" He shook his head and stood right in front of Alfred. It reminded Alfred of how small he was compared to the count. The count looked down at Alfred with a smile. "May I see your wounds?"

Alfred held his jacket closed with both hands. "It's not necessary, Excellency. I really am well."

"It would be inhospitable of me to allow a guest to be harmed while they are in my care."

"I'm in your care?"

"But of course. As a guest in my home, you are my responsibility. Now, you wouldn't want me to be rude, would you?"

"Well, no. But…" But it would involve taking his shirt off and what if he was bleeding in front of vampires? Even if he wasn't bleeding, Herbert seemed all too likely to get excited and Alfred didn't want another scary repeat of what had happened earlier that evening.

As if he could read Alfred's mind, the count smiled indulgently and said, "Herbert can leave the room, if it makes you more comfortable."

"Oh!" Herbert protested, sounding hurt. "I don't make him uncomfortable! Do I, Alfred?"

Alfred floundered for a minute and looked down at his shoes.

Herbert released Alfred's hand and declared, "I have a sudden urge to read. If you two will excuse me." He abruptly went to the far side of the room where he turned his back to Alfred and the count, pulled a seemingly random book off a shelf, and began to read.

Alfred suspected it was the most privacy he would get from Herbert and, honestly, it was far more than he'd expected.

"Now, Alfred, your wounds?"

"Must I?"

"No. I won't force you. But as I told you earlier, you are safe, for now. I can't promise that will always be the case, but tonight, you are safe. All I want to do is make certain you aren't going to die before tomorrow night. Would that be acceptable to you?"

Alfred had nowhere to run and no excuses to give him an exit. He swallowed hard. "I suppose."

"Very good." When Alfred just stood there in a rather awkward, frozen manner, the count asked, "Would you like some help?"

"No! No, that's not… I can do it." Alfred took his jacket off then turned half-away from the count, so as to not look at him while he unbuttoned his shirt. He took a quick glance to reassure himself that Herbert was still reading, then slipped his shirt off. The count stepped behind him and Alfred felt those long, cool hands, so like the legs of a daddy-long-legs spider, probe at his back. It hurt. The count seemed to touch every raw spot where the professor had struck with his umbrella. "See?" Alfred said when the count said nothing for a long while. "It's not that bad."

"It is bad enough." The count's big hands landed on Alfred's shoulders. The count said something in his own language. Alfred didn't understand it well, but thought he caught the words 'drink' and 'now'. Herbert left the room immediately. "You're being very brave tonight, Alfred," the count praised. "Would you like help to get dressed?"

"I can do it. I'm alright." It was painful to move his arms, but he was cold and didn't want to stay so exposed. By the time he had managed to get his jacket on, Herbert returned bearing with him a bottle and a glass.

"I don't drink," Alfred protested. "I told Herbert - it makes me feel sick. Thank you, all the same."

"This isn't alcohol; it's medicine." The count said as Herbert poured a very small amount into a glass and held it out to Alfred. "It will help with the pain and let you sleep more comfortably. Go on. It won't hurt you."

His back DID hurt quite a lot and the idea of relief was tempting.

The count patted Alfred on the top of his head. "I told you – my only motive at the moment is to ensure that you stay healthy until tomorrow night. I will be very unhappy if you are unable to dance at the ball."

Alfred took the glass, but still hesitated. He looked over his shoulder, then up to look at Count Von Krolock who still stood behind him. It didn't occur to Alfred until quite a long while after the fact that such a move had put him in a delicate predicament of having bared his throat to Herbert and, really, if the count had wanted to bite him, all he would have do to was to lean over just a little to get at the exposed throat.

"You may as well begin to trust me, Alfred," the count said. "Soon, very soon, you will come to understand that I do not lie. I have many faults, but lying is not one of them. I give you my word of honor – this medicine will do nothing but let you rest easily and you will come to no harm tonight."

Alfred drank. He couldn't insult the count by calling him a liar. The drink was nothing like he had ever tasted. It was sweet and strong and when it hit his stomach he felt warm all over. Very suddenly, his head grew foggy. He felt light, as if he might float away. The glass fell from his hand. He didn't hear it break. It took him a minute to realize that Herbert must have caught it because it was in his hand. Alfred's whole body began to feel tingly, but he really didn't care. Then he felt an arm around his back and then he was walking.

"Father, you will let me keep him, won't you?"

Apparently, it was Herbert who was gently guiding Alfred into walking. His voice sounded as if he were underwater.

"Of course. He is a unique young man. As you said – a lost mouse." And there was the count suddenly on Alfred's other side. How nice.

Everything seemed very pleasant in that moment with the count's lovely medicine warming Alfred all over. Alfred smiled up at Herbert. "Hello."

"Hello." Herbert's smile was so bright.

"You've got pretty hair."

Herbert laughed. "Why thank you, darling. I'll take that compliment because I don't think I'll get one when you come back to your senses." Then he looked back at the count. "How long will he sleep?" There was a press on Alfred's shoulder and he managed to raise his heavy head up enough to look at Herbert's pretty face. "Sit here on the sofa, darling. That's right. Time to rest for my little mouse."

Alfred was happy to sit. He didn't even resist when Herbert pushed a little on his shoulders, again, and told him to lay down. There was no reason to resist. Herbert had been scary before, but now he was kind. It was a good thing Alfred didn't mind laying down as he couldn't feel his legs at all. His hands and arms were growing numb. His eyes were heavy. The count didn't lie, Alfred thought, happily. The drink had stopped his back from hurting.

"The potion has taken hold of him quickly; he must not have eaten in quite a while. I think he will sleep the rest of the night and part of tomorrow and it is well-earned. See that food is available to him when he wakes, something simple like bread and cheese with water." He chuckled. "Don't look so worried, Hebert. He'll be well-rested in time for the ball; you'll have your dance."

That was the last Alfred heard before he drifted away to a dreamless, restful sleep.

 **Later-**

Alfred woke slowly and found himself alone in the room he and Herbert had found Count Von Krolock in. Someone had spread a heavy blanket over him. He sat up and looked around, half-expecting to find Herbert waiting for him, but there was no one. He had, as he'd thought, been sleeping on a sofa. On the little table near the sofa, he found a plate of bread and cheese and a mug of water along with some dried apples. As he sat there, looking dumbly at the food, the memory of the previous evening returned. He'd been found by Herbert and the count gave him medicine. Suddenly, Alfred realized the risky situation he'd been in. His hand flew up to his throat, but there was no wound, not even a nick. His back, as the count had promised, did feel a bit better. It still hurt, but not nearly so much as it had.

"Alfred!"

Alfred looked up at the sound of his name.

"Alfred!"

When he went to the door and peeked out he saw the professor in the corridor. "Yes, sir?"

"Ah! There you are. Stop dilly-dallying. We have important work to do and I have a task in mind for you. Come on."

Alfred beamed; the food, his back, and everything else forgotten. "Yes, sir! I'm coming!" The professor needed him. He was needed, wanted, and no matter how firmly the professor punished him, Alfred knew he had an important place in Professor Abronsius' life. He was smiling happily when he dashed out to follow the professor, who was already walking away.

 **To be continued…**


	4. Herbert's Plan

**Chapter 4: Herbert's Plan**

 **Herbert-**

For a great long while, Herbert sat on the floor next to where Alfred lay on the sofa, simply watching him breathe. The temptation to feed was incredible, as it always was. But Herbert didn't move. Count Von Krolock went back to his seat to read and, for the rest of the night, Herbert silently sat and watched. Alfred's chest rose and fell with his breath, but that was the only movement he made in the hours that Herbert watched him. He didn't even budge when Herbert draped a blanket over him.

"The dawn comes, Herbert. We must leave him, now."

Herbert bowed his head in a respectful acceptance for while the count was not his father in the human understanding of the word, he was the only father Herbert had ever known. It was Count Von Krolock who had taught Herbert and protected him, provided for him and, when necessary, disciplined him. Herbert loved him dearly, respected him immensely, and would do anything for him.

"Will he be alright, father?"

"Of course. Rest is usually the best remedy and our little mouse will be the better for it." Count Von Krolock put an arm around Herbert's shoulders and they walked together through the castle, downwards to the crypt below. "You worry for him."

Herbert hesitated before answering. "He is… helpless. I have never met someone so utterly defenseless. Even the idea of defending himself would never occur to him. How can this have happened to him? He is strong. I felt it when we danced in my room. Physically, he is very strong, he should have been able to easily fight off that old man before he was hurt. When we danced he got frightened and tried to run, that was all he did. He will run like a rabbit but he didn't try to hit me or even push me, he just attempted to wiggle away and run. Why wouldn't he try to fight?"

Count Von Krolock held Herbert close. "If you found a beast you wished to make into a pet, but that beast had always been treated poorly by humans, do you think it would be make an easy animal to tame?"

"No. It would be frightened."

"Correct, but will you give up on your pet?"

"Alfred isn't a pet."

"That's all he can be at the moment – he's human. Soon, he will have a chance to be more, but you must wait for the ball. I did promise the guests a meal."

"You told them about Alfred?"

"No. But that is why he is allowed to be here."

"I don't want anyone else to touch him. He's mine." Herbert gave the count a cautious look. "And yours, too, of course. No one else, though."

With an affectionate squeeze, the count told Herbert, "Have no fear – they may taste him, but you will have him first and I will be the one to change him."

It wasn't until they were in the crypt, far below the castle, where their coffins sat that Herbert asked, "Father? If Alfred is an animal who has been so mistreated, surely he will be happy to stay with us. We won't mistreat him."

"Ah, that would be logical, but he has clearly learned to be afraid and that he must do whatever he can in order to stay safe. I don't know the details of his life up until now, but it is plain to see that he has never been valued. He has come to expect to be mistreated, has become accustomed to it, in fact. So accustomed that it is unlikely he knows how to be treated any other way. Kindness and a gentle touch may actually frighten him more. You will have to be patient with him, Herbert. I mean it. You are a brat – don't pout at me, you know it's the truth – and if you are impatient, you will scare him enough that he runs and he will, as you said, run like a rabbit and hide himself away in some little burrow where you will not find him if he honestly wishes to stay hidden. Can you do it? Can you be patient for a little while longer?"

"Yes, father. I'm sure I can."

"Not just until the ball, Herbert. Even after the ball he will need careful handling. He will be as you were in the beginning. Do you remember how it was? The hunger? How it drove you to an animal-like state and how terrifying it was? Alfred will be the same and he will need a compassionate friend before he needs a lover. Do you understand?"

Herbert bowed his head with utmost respect. "Of course, father. I will be his protector for as long as he needs it."

He bid his father a good day and lay down in his coffin. With the lid closed and in perfect darkness, Herbert drifted away into a deep sleep and he dreamed.

Shackled. He sat with his back against a wall, his feet shackled together with a length of chain barely long enough to allow his feet to stretch two feet apart. His hands were manacled together with an even shorter chain. The room he was in was entirely bare. There were no windows, only a single door and stone walls. The hunger gnawed at him. He had no idea how long he'd been in the stone room, how long it had been since Count Von Krolock had welcomed him into the ancient castle. Days and nights were as one and the only break of the monotony was the regular visits the count paid him, always brining with him sustenance in a metal tankard that Herbert would quickly empty and beg for more.

"You must learn to control it, Herbert," the count told him, patiently every time Herbert would plead. "The hunger will never be satisfied, you must control it as much as you are able to."

If Herbert was very lucky, when Count Von Krolock visited, he would bring no tankard, but would sit with Herbert on the floor. "You're doing better, Herbert," he praised. "Soon, you will be strong enough to leave this room and start your new life." He would repeat that often and other comforting messages. Then he would bite his own wrist and pressed it to Herbert's mouth, allowing him to feed.

It was different than human blood, but so good. It made him feel strong and alive and warm all over.

Months passed in that manner, a mix of darkness and blood and gentle words from his master, until one night, Count Von Krolock came to Herbert and, after giving Herbert a long look, unlocked his bonds and helped him to his feet, steading him until Herbert had found his balance.

"Time to go for a little walk, Herbert."

Herbert walked with the count, the count's hand always on Herbert's arm, until they reached the count's chambers. There, laid out on the bed that the count rarely ever used, was a young man, peacefully sleeping. His hair, black as ink, was curly and his skin dark from work under the sun. A farmer, most likely. His clothes were simple and rough and his face was plain, but not unattractive.

Herbert swayed on his feet and leaned against the steady wall of the count. He was so hungry and the young man looked so delicious. He could smell the blood rushing just under the skin. He wanted… he wanted…

"Do you like him?" The count asked, gently. "I picked him just for you. Is he to your taste?"

Herbert could feel the hunger pulling at him. "Yes. He's lovely." He was itching to grab the sleeping man, wanted to rip him apart and drain every delicious drop of blood.

"We talked about this, Herbert." Count Von Krolock suddenly let go of Herbert's arm. "If you want something, you must act like a young gentleman and ask politely."

Without the count physically holding him, restraint was even harder than ever, but Herbert knew if he couldn't control himself, he would be back in chains before he could even touch the young man. So he closed his eyes and turned his face away from the tempting sight. After a moment, he managed to say, "Excellency?" Herbert looked up the lord and licked his lips and fought to focus on the count's face. "May I? May I have him, please? Please?"

A beaming smile broke out on the count's face. He lit up with pride. "Good, Herbert. So very good. This is splendid proof that you are gaining self-control. So you will be rewarded. Yes, you may have him."

Herbert woke with a gasp.

He blinked in the darkness of his coffin as the dream faded into memory. He'd killed that young man but the blood satisfied for only a heartbeat. It was terrible. The count had warned him before changing him into a vampire, but the desire for blood was still stronger than Herbert had imagined. It had taken several years before the count would allow Herbert to leave the castle without supervision for fear that he would lose control and ravage the little village sitting in the valley below the castle.

As a young man, after a great deal of strife and heartache, Herbert had gone to Count Von Krolock fully understanding and wanting what he was asking for. He had made the long trek to the Transylvanian castle after meeting the count only once in France and presented himself at the gate of the castle, begging for help. He had heard about what the count was, had known what he was asking for. Alfred has no such advantage and wasn't asking for anything. With that in mind, Herbert knew his father was right about Alfred needed a friend and he vowed to himself that he would be the best friend Alfred could wish for in such circumstances.

Herbert had woken earlier than the sun, he could still feel that it was daytime, but as they were in the crypt and there was no way at all for the sun's light to invade, he pushed the lid off his coffin and sat up.

The crypt was dark as always and housed only the two coffins of Herbert and the count. The guests, who'd only arrived for the sake of the annual ball, slept in another part of the castle. While he waited for the sun to set, Herbert busied himself with brushing out his long hair and thinking about the ball. He wanted at least one nice dance with Alfred before things turned scary for Alfred and, if Herbert had any say in the matter, Alfred wouldn't have to be scared, at all.

Count Von Krolock woke in due time and said to Herbert, "You are deep in thought."

"I am considering a plan, father."

"Is that so?" Count Von Krolock stepped out of his coffin, onto the ground, and somehow managed to look quite regal while doing it. He lit a lantern that hung on the wall. "And should I be alarmed?"

"Of course not. You know I wouldn't do anything you would disapprove of. I cannot do it, myself, but you…

"Then tell me of your plan." He smiled fondly at Herbert. "Your hair is fine; stop fiddling with it and tie it back properly. I won't have you looking a mess before the guests."

Herbert found a ribbon in his chest of clothes and did as he was told, but he pouted as he did it. "I wish they hadn't come this year." If the guests hadn't come, perhaps the count still would have commanded that Alfred join them, but there would have been time for a gentler introduction, to ease his fears. Then again, perhaps the count would have shown mercy, as he infrequently did, and simply allowed Alfred and his professor to leave without any proof of Abronsius' vampire theories. It was even quite likely that they may have found a deserted castle if the count and Herbert had consented to visit whoever happened to be hosting the yearly ball. However, the fact was that they were hosting and Alfred was there, caught up in events he couldn't hope to control.

"As do I, but there are certain obligations I must uphold for the sake of politics. Next year will be the Lady Leanor's turn to play hostess and you will make a trip to her manor in England. You haven't been there in a good many years."

Herbert liked Lady Leanor. There was a vitality to her that so many of their kind were lacking. "Only me? Why not you? And Alfred told me he's from England. Perhaps we could bring him with us? Sarah, too. I have heard girls like to have other girls to talk to and we have a distinct lack of them around here."

"I fully expect to be busy minding Sarah and Alfred next year. I won't be able to leave them alone unless they gain a great deal of control a lot earlier than you did and I don't like the idea of taking such young children into public where they might be endangered. Remember, I didn't take you into society until you were almost five years old. However, if they can control themselves and if they wish to go, we will bring the both of them."

"Thank you. As for my plan, it involves Alfred."

"I am completely stunned." He gave Herbert a dry look.

"Oh! I'm being serious!" Herbert began to pace the room, wringing his hands as he went. "I do understand why you can't just let him go and, honestly, I don't want him to go. I understand that you have a responsibility as host to provide for the guests and Alfred and that old man are convenient, but there's no reason why Alfred should have to be afraid when the time comes, is there? It wouldn't serve any purpose. The potion you gave him to help him rest, he wasn't a bit afraid of either of us after he drank it."

"And you think it would be best to drug him tonight?"

"I don't want him to be afraid."

The count chuckled and held open his arms. Herbert happily hugged his father and smiled when the count kissed his forehead. "My compassionate Herbert. I pray your heart never hardens. When the ball begins you may rest assured that Professor Abronsius will be there and he will have dragged Alfred behind him. You will find Alfred and bring him to me after I've finished with Sarah. I will give him the option – he may have a taste of the potion or not, but it will be his choice. Being drugged without his permission is not something that will gain us his confidence. Remember – he may hate me for trapping him like this, but you have the chance to gain his trust. Don't discard something so precious."

"Yes, father. I understand."

"Excellent. I'll have a dose for him at the ball if he wants it; just make sure you bring him to me."

"I will. I'll catch him as soon as I spy him." He paused a moment, then stood up straight and held his arms out at his sides. "How do I look?"

"Like you slept in your clothes. Go and wash and then change into something respectable. I won't have those petty gossips whispering about you behind their hands all year."

Herbert bowed respectfully to his father, as was proper, before he left the crypt, nearly running as he went. His excitement grew with every step. First, he went to his chambers where he ran a bath and washed before he dressed. It was his finest outfit, newly commission from the best tailor he could find when he and his father had traveled to Venice months ago. Once he was done and inspected himself as best as he could without the advantage of a reflection, he strolled off to find Alfred. His father's chambers were empty, the blanket he'd spread over Alfred had been neatly folded and left on the bed. There was no other sign of Alfred. While Herbert was disappointed that he didn't find Alfred waiting for him, he really hadn't expected any different. It was a logical conclusion that he would find Alfred in Professor Abronsius' room.

Professor Abronsius. Herbert detested the man. Small minded and petty with such lofty ambitions, but no concern at all for the one person in the world who depended on him and loved him. While Alfred had come to the castle with the noble idea of rescuing Sarah as he'd thought she was kidnapped, Abronsius had come to the castle with the express purpose of murdering them in their sleep. Herbert could understand Alfred's intrusion – he was a kind-hearted lad and it undoubtedly troubled him to see anyone in pain or fear. Abronsius, however, he would not forgive. He was cold and heartless and his treatment of Alfred was proof enough of that.

He hadn't let on to Alfred or even his father, but Herbert had snuck a peek at Alfred's back when he'd taken his shirt off so the count could examine him. It was just a little look, a glimpse in a small mirror that was more for decoration than anything else and had been set in a convenient place. Alfred's back had been terrible, a violent mess of bruises. Somehow, he hadn't been bleeding, but if he didn't have any broken ribs, Herbert would have been shocked. He was so very pleased to obey when his father had ordered him to fetch the powerful medicine which was meant more to have Alfred sleep peacefully than actually heal anything.

Even if he didn't fret for Alfred, Herbert had to worry for his and his father's life every moment that Abronsius was in the castle. If it weren't for all their guests, he would have thrown the old man from the tower the moment he'd set foot in the front gate. After all, they'd never done anything to hurt Abronsius. They'd never even known about him before he'd invaded their lives. Nevertheless, he wanted to kill them both. But, instead, the old man was safe and comfortable in a nice room with a fire and food.

And so, Herbert ended up standing outside Abronsius' room, dreading that he would possibly have to speak to the man, but eager to see how Alfred was doing. He raised his hand to knock on the door when he heard Alfred's voice and paused.

"Please, sir," Alfred's distressed voice floated through the door. "Must I?"

"Don't whine, Alfred. Just do it."

"But…"

"I didn't bring you on this trip for your sparkling conversation, boy. You are here at my good-will and, as such, you will do as you're told. Get on your knees."

Herbert's eyes sprang open. His imagination suddenly exploded with terrible visions of what must be happening behind the closed door. He immediately pressed his ear against the door, horrified at what he was hearing.

There was a moment of silence from beyond the door. Alfred said, "I don't like this, sir. I'm scared."

"You aren't a child, anymore. Now take hold of it. Not like that! A good, firm grip! Yes." Professor Abronsius let out a satisfied noise that made Herbert's mind flash to ghastly images of what might be taking place beyond the door. "Much better, Alfred. Now, right. Just there. Perfect."

It was too much for Herbert. He was both furious with the old man for taking such liberties when Alfred clearly was unhappy with the whole situation and desperate to save his sweet little bird. Herbert flung open the door and stopped and took in the scene:

Alfred, on his knees in the middle of the floor with a wooden stake in one hand and a mallet in the other, obviously about to practice staking techniques on a sacrificial pillow. Abronsius stood a good six feet away from Alfred. Alfred was so distraught that he didn't even see Herbert before he wailed at Abronsius, "But I don't want to kill anyone!" It was only then that Alfred and Abronsius noticed Herbert standing in the doorway. Alfred froze, for a moment, before the stuck his hands, still holding the stake and mallet, behind his back. As if that would make Herbert forget that he saw them. As if he and his father didn't already know what Abronsius had planned.

Herbert sighed. Then he smiled at the both of them. "Father wanted me to make sure you both know that you're invited to the ball tonight." Herbert closed the door and, alone in the hall, he closed his eyes and sighed. He considered what he'd imagined was going on in the room and shook his head. "He will be the end of me." Then he turned around and opened the door, again. "Pardon me, I forgot something. Terribly sorry. Alfred, you come with me." He marched into the room, took Alfred by the arm and pulled him out off the floor and out of the room and while Alfred tried to pull away.

"Wait!"

Alfred yanked his arm away from Herbert at Abronsius' imperious command. He rushed back to Abronsius, but, to Herbert's surprise, the old man didn't say or do anything to make Alfred stay. Rather, he leaned in close and whispered,

"I have changed my mind. You go with him and if he turns you into a vampire, come straight back here."

"What!?"

"They will shortly be dead. I'll have that count sliced up and pickled in jars, but having a subject to study will be most valuable. You will be worth a great deal to me." He poked Alfred on the chest. "You let him bite you!"

Apparently, Abronsius, for all his boasting, didn't know everything about vampires or he would have known that their superior hearing allowed Herbert to hear the whispered conversation quite easily.

How Herbert seethed at what he'd heard!

Alfred slowly turned away from Abronsius and looked at Herbert with wide eyes. He was pale and was clearly terrified of what he'd been ordered to do. He didn't move until Abronsius impatiently slapped him on the back which caused him to drop the stake and mallet and sent him stumbling towards Herbert.

Deftly, Herbert caught Alfred's hand and tugged him out of the room before he said or did anything he might regret. He fumed, scowling straight ahead as he marched down the hall, towing Alfred behind him like a child might tote around a doll.

It wasn't supposed to be like this! He wanted Alfred to be at ease and… and that Abronsius! The nerve! Ordering Alfred to… and then blatantly saying that he would study Alfred like he was nothing more than a bug under glass? Herbert wanted to…

"Umm… where are we going?" Alfred's voice held a nervous little tremble. It was successful in bring Herbert out of his temper. It wasn't as if Alfred had done anything wrong, no need for him to be on the wrong end of Herbert's bad humor.

Herbert slowed his pace to let Alfred keep pace more easily. "To get ready, of course. I realize there isn't much we can do about your outfit, adorable as it is, but I didn't have time to get a tailor for you. Pity. Still, there's always next year."

Alfred gulped audibly. "Next year?"

Herbert kept talking as if he hadn't heard. "We can still get you spruced up for this evening." Herbert paused with his mouth half open to say something else, but stopped. He could feel the distinctive sensation that told him another vampire was close at hand. With all the visitors he rarely escaped that feeling, lately, and it wasn't the unique feeling he always got when he was near his father. At once, he spun around and started to walk in the opposite direction. The castle was a labyrinth – there was more than one way to get where he wanted to go if he wanted to avoid one of the guests. But he was too late. They'd been seen.

"Are you running from me?"

Forcing himself to smile, Herbert stopped walking and turned to face Charlotte. He'd been told that she was judged quite the beauty, but he didn't see it. Still, he could be polite.

"Madam Charlotte. A pleasure to see you this evening." He didn't miss the fact that Alfred had immediately stepped behind him. "Perhaps I'm confused, but I had thought my father had told all of your to keep away from his personal guests."

"I am more than eight feet away. I'm hardly a danger here."

"Are you in need of something?"

"Entertainment. A meal." Her eyes were fixed on something behind Herbert. Alfred.

"There will be refreshments at the ball."

"I dislike waiting."

"That's a shame."

Charlotte still didn't look at Herbert. He wanted to get Alfred away from her, but he knew enough about politics to know that he couldn't be seen to back down to her. As his father's heir, there were certain responsibilities he'd had to learn over the past many years he'd been living at the castle, but even before that, when he'd served as a page in the court of Napoleon, he'd seen the twisted ways those in political power maneuvered around one another for their own gain. He knew very well that if he were the first one to walk away, Charlotte would use that to suggest that his father was weak for raising a cowardly son.

Charlotte turned her eyes to Herbert. "Have you been with the count long?"

The question took Herbert by surprise. "Yes. He's my sire; it's only natural that I live with him."

"A man like yourself shouldn't be trapped in this dusty old place."

"I'm hardly a prisoner."

"Perhaps, but I think the lights of Paris would be more to your taste than the cold winters of Transylvania." With that, Charlotte turned and strode down the hall.

Herbert glared after her. She was playing some game and he didn't like it.

"What was that about?" Alfred asked.

Herbert was silent for a moment as he thought, and then he looked down at Alfred with his usual bright smile. "I have no idea. We should get going." He would talk to his father about Charlotte, later. "There isn't too much time and you haven't bathed in…" He sniffed the air. "How long has it been since you bathed?"

Alfred looked at his feet, ashamed. "I meant to have one in the village. Sarah really wanted it, though."

"And what the lovely Sarah wants, Sarah gets? Never mind that; tonight, the bath is all yours." He stepped behind Alfred and put his hands on Alfred's shoulders, pushing him insistently into his rooms and while he did realize that Alfred was uncomfortable there, it did nothing to stop him. He was not going to let Alfred appear at the ball in such a state anymore than the count would allow Herbert to do such a thing. "You feel a bit tense, dearest." Herbert gave Alfred's shoulders a firm squeeze. "I think a nice hot bath will help with that. And maybe a massage after that."

"A what?"

Herbert couldn't help giving Alfred's shoulders another squeeze. "A massage. I'll rub you all over until you feel nice and relaxed."

Alfred froze in place so suddenly that Herbert nearly ran into him. He watched the back of Alfred's neck grow bright red with a blush. "No!" Alfred started walking, very quickly. "I don't think that's a good idea at all."

"Are you sure? I'm very good at it. Never had a single complaint."

"You… you've done it with people before?"

Perhaps it was Herbert's imagination, but Alfred might have sounded a bit hurt and, while that strangely pleased Herbert, it also showed him that he'd made a misstep and he quickly tried to correct it. "Not with anyone important. You're special."

There was no door on the bathing alcove in Herbert's chambers, just a wall separating it from the rest of Herbert's chambers. Herbert very happily refilled with the bathtub with water from the hand pump. He even went so far as to set several types of soap on a little table next to the bathtub and, though he didn't really expect Alfred to use them, three types of perfume. The fire he'd used to warm his own bath had died down to coals, so he added more wood to the stone under the bathtub, and then went out to join Alfred, who still waited in the main room. He hadn't tried to run.

It was that Abronsius' doing, Herbert knew. He would have liked to think that Alfred stayed because he was growing comfortable, but he knew that Alfred would obey whatever Abronsius said and he had ordered Alfred to allow himself to be bitten. To be ordered to submit… it was bad enough that it would be forced on him, the count had no choice as Alfred knew so much about them – he would have to be turned into one of them or die - but that someone Alfred trusted so greatly would order him to submit to it for the selfish reason that he wanted to study Alfred… it was monstrous.

Herbert then went to his wardrobe. While he no longer slept in the rooms, they were still 'his' chambers and held all of his possessions. In the wardrobe, he found many of his fine outfits, even some that were well out of fashion, but he loved so much he couldn't bring himself to be rid of them, yet. He was taller than Alfred by a good few inches and a great deal broader in the chest and shoulders. Nothing would fit properly. Oh, if only he'd known ahead of time that he would have a guest, he could have done something. But he did find clean silk stockings to replace Alfred's threadbare ones. He found a white shirt and a gray waistcoat with silver buttons that he expected would look quite decent if Alfred didn't take his jacket off.

Herbert looked at the scavenged clothes he'd set on his bed. It would have to do. He played with the idea of trimming Alfred's hair, but the mop of straw-like hair was adorable. He would leave the hair alone. With a satisfied smiled, he gathered up the clothes and handed them to Alfred. "These are for you. After you wash, put them on and you'll be ready for tonight."

Still looking uncomfortable, Alfred held the clothes and looked at his feet for a minute. Then he blurted out, "Will that lady be at the ball?"

"Charlotte? Yes, I'm afraid so."

"I don't like her."

"You have very good judgment. Now, time to wash." He moved towards Alfred, but Alfred backed away.

"I can do it myself!"

Herbert almost laughed. "Good. You go in and have a wash, take as much time as you like. Call me if you need me." He kept smiling as Alfred skirted passed him. "Don't forget what I said before – I'll be happy to scrub your back for you."

Alfred made a funny sort of 'eep' sound and hurried into the bathing area. A moment later, he poked his head around the corner. "Don't peek!"

"I wouldn't even think of it." Herbert said as he proceeded to think of Alfred in a tub of hot, bubbly water. He was certain Alfred would be much cuter than Sarah.

As soon as Alfred went behind the wall, into the little alcove that housed the bathtub, there was a knock on the door. It was loyal Koukol, bearing with him a tray of cheese, bread, dried apples, and pitcher of water and a mug. There was also a wine bottle and a single glass. Herbert blinked at the food. "He didn't eat what we left for him?"

Koukol shook his head and, with his difficult way of communicating, managed to let Herbert know that not a bite had been eaten when he'd found the food in the count's chambers.

Herbert looked at the corner behind which Alfred was bathing. "Poor thing must be half-starved. Thank you, Koukol. You can leave it. I'll make sure he eats." When Koukol had gone, Herbert uncorked the wine bottle and poured himself a glass of the thick, red liquid. He knew it came from his father's storeroom where there rested enough bottled blood to last a full year, if necessary.

With nothing to do but wait while Alfred soaked, Herbert sat at his little pianoforte and began to play. Slowly, his worries about the coming evening and curiosity about what Charlotte was plotting and his anger at Abronsius all slipped away as the music became all important. It took a long while before he realized Alfred was standing behind him, wearing the clothing Herbert had given him.

"That was pretty."

"No need to sound shocked. My father has made sure that I've had an excellent education. Don't you play music?"

"Professor Abronsius says learning music takes time away from real learning."

"Why am I not surprised? Never mind. I'll teach you to play. Unless you'd rather learn something other than pianoforte and then we may have to get you a teacher. Father plays the violin, so you should consider that. He tried to get me to play for years, but I just don't have the taste for it." He took a moment to study Alfred and decided that he'd done well choosing the clothing. It wasn't quite as fancy as Herbert would have liked, and it certainly didn't fit very well, but it was passable. He pointed to the little side-table where he'd left the tray of food. "Eat something. Your drink is in the pitcher. Don't touch the bottle; you wouldn't like it, yet."

Obediently, Alfred picked up the mug and filled it with water. He stared down into for a time before he looked up and cautiously met Herbert's eyes, as if he were afraid Herbert would strike him. "I think you should know…"

"Yes?"

"You've torn a hole in the seat of your trousers."

Herbert blinked and threw a hand to his backside where he felt, clear as anything, that Alfred was quite right. The seam had opened right up. Appalled, Herbert let out a shriek and immediately started to undress so he could see the damage for himself.

Alfred was out of the room with the door slammed behind him in a flash.

It was awful. Herbert thought he might cry. He'd been saving that particular outfit especially for the ball and it was completely spoiled. None of his other trousers would match the waistcoat or coat. He'd have to wear something old and while it was hardly the end of the world, it ruined his careful plans. The worst part was that the outfit had been a gift from his father and he had so wanted to show off that beautiful gift.

"Sir?"

Herbert was dragged out of his thoughts at Alfred's voice. The door of the room was opened and Alfred had stuck his arm in the room.

"I can fix it, sir. Hand them out."

It left Herbert speechless, but he did put the trousers in Alfred's hand. The hand withdrew from the room with the trousers. Before the door closed, again, Alfred said, "Just wait here for a bit. I'll be right back."

Herbert waited as he'd been told and finally, with a spare pair of trousers on, he opened the door and looked out. Alfred sat on the floor in the hall, with his back against the wall in the much the same manner as Herbert had found him the previous evening. This time, Alfred wasn't wincing in pain at every movement. He sat with Herbert's trousers on his lap and, with a careful hand, easily sewed the seam closed with a needle and thread.

"I had to run back to the professor's room to find my mending kit. It's not so bad," Alfred said, quietly. "No one will notice when I'm done."

It was such a small act of kindness.

"Why?" Herbert asked. "I know you're not happy here. Why do that for me?"

Alfred didn't look up. "You let me have food. You let me use your bath. It's to say… well... thank you." He kept his head bowed over his work until he was finished and then stood up and handed the trousers to Herbert. "I think I should go back to the professor, now." He gave Herbert a bow at the waist, then turned and quickly walked away.

"This is going to be a very long night," Herbert muttered to himself.

 **To be continued…**


	5. Escape

**Chapter 5: Escape**

In the bathing alcove of Herbert's room, Alfred sat in the bath and thought that in that moment, soaking in hot water with the clean smell of soap filling the room, he could happily die with no regrets about missing any of the luxuries of in life for there could be nothing finer than a hot bath. Herbert had filled the bath so much that the water came right to Alfred's chest. There were bubbles floating on the surface of the water from the soap he'd been scrubbing with. It was funny soap, he thought. It smelled like flowers.

As he sat there and wiggled his toes in the water, Alfred looked down at his right arm. It still hurt from when he'd fallen after he'd nearly run into Charlotte and it was definitely swollen. Luckily, it didn't actually bruised very much so he hadn't had to explain to Count Von Krolock how clumsy he was when he's taken his shirt off the other night to have his back inspected. And he could still move his fingers, so he supposed that whatever he'd done to it wasn't all that bad. With time, it would heal itself. He just wished it would stop hurting.

Besides his hurting arm and back, the knowledge that vampires were real, and the fact Herbert was just around the corner and was probably going to sneak a peek, it was the most perfect moment of Alfred's life. The hot water made his every muscle relax and it felt like years since he'd been really clean. Usually, the best he could hope for was a basin of water and a rag to wash with. Alfred even felt the dreadfully childish urge to splash in the water with happiness, but managed to restrain himself. He was afraid that Herbert, who clearly took great care to make his rooms look so splendid, would make him leave if he made a mess of the bathing alcove. He really didn't want to leave Herbert's rooms.

Then he heard the music.

It was soft and gentle and he fancied that it must have been what fairy music sounded like.

After a while, Alfred got out of the cooling water, wrinkled as a prune, and quickly dried off. The clothes Herbert had given him were too big and he looked like a child playing dress up with his big brother's clothes. But with the shirt tucked in and wearing his coat on top, it at least looked decent enough. The only thing that couldn't be disguised was the stockings - they were baggy and sagged horribly. He looked at himself and wished for new shoes as his looked out of place with Herbert's nice clothing, but it was a shallow sort of wish as he knew he should be thankful that he had any shoes at all.

The lovely music was coming from a little pianoforte that Herbert was playing and, when Alfred stepped out of the bathing alcove and into the room, he had to admit to himself that Herbert didn't look like a monster as he sat there with his eyes closed and made such beautiful music.

"That was pretty." Alfred winced as the words, honest and heartfelt thought they might be, were too simple for a proper compliment. He had never had a gift for speaking, but he really should have been able to think of something more suitable to say than a mere 'pretty'. He wanted to kick himself for being so stupid.

Herbert didn't seem to take any offense, though, and smiled at Alfred. He invited Alfred to eat and drink and while Alfred was hungry, there was something that was playing on his mind ever since Herbert had led him down the hall, earlier. He had been trying to think of some way to mention it without sounding rude, but he didn't think there was a way. Not saying anything, though, seemed even more rude because Herbert might attend the ball as he was and be made to feel a fool if people laughed at him.

" _Always use your manners, Alfie," mama said. "Be polite and the world will be a better place."_

The memory of his mama was one of the only ones he had left of his parents. He remembered that his mother had been sick, but she smiled at a lot. He didn't remember why she'd told him that, but he remembered her words and had always tried to live by them. So he knew he had to say it, even if Herbert got angry, for it seemed better to be embarrassed in private than embarrassed when surrounded by a crowd.

As he couldn't think of a tactful way to say it, he blurted out, "You've torn a hole in the seat of your trousers."

Oh! How upset Herbert got! His eyes went wide and he let out such a bellow that Alfred, afraid that Herbert was angry with him, ran out of the room and closed the door behind him even as Herbert started to pull his trousers off. In the hall outside Herbert's room, Alfred turned and stared at the door. He didn't know what, but he expected something to happen. Nothing did. Eventually, he pushed the door open a crack and peered inside. He saw Herbert standing in the middle of the room with his trousers in his hands and looking like he would cry. Alfred didn't see it as a terrible disaster. From what he'd seen, the tear was on the seam and was a quick fix. He'd done much harder repair jobs. So he poked his arm in through the partly open door and called to Herbert to give him the trousers so he could fix them.

Shortly, Alfred sat in the hall, sewing. He had never worked on anything as fine as Herbert's trousers, but in the end they were just trousers and, as he'd thought, it was a simple fix and no one would be the wiser. It was no great chore; he didn't see why Herbert looked so amazed when he came out of his rooms. Alfred could fix them with no trouble, so he ought to do just that. After all, it was good manners to help someone in need… even a vampire.

It was not long after Alfred had given Herbert back his trousers and excused himself that Alfred crept after Professor Abronsius as they found their way to the ballroom. Within moments of them walking into the room, Professor Abronsius hissed at Alfred, "Hide! They're coming!"

The ballroom left little room to hide; it was a large open space with a few pillars to support the ceiling above and a grand, spiral staircase made entirely out of finely wrought iron. They used that staircase to hide while Koukol rushed as fast as he was able to around the room, lighting candles on elaborate candelabras. At last, he finished and the room was brilliant. It sparkled. And then, after a loud shout by Koukol – who quickly left the room – a door at the far end opened and Herbert walked in.

Alfred's heart stopped. He was sure it did.

Herbert strode in with the grace and confidence of any prince and led a mass of vampires who seemed dull in Herbert's light. There wasn't a hair out of place. From the ribbon in his hair to the bottoms of his high shoes, Herbert was so elegantly dressed that Alfred, even with Professor Abronsius right next to him, started to blush.

Herbert walked with his chin up and a knowing smirk that made it look as if he were trying so hard not to laugh at the people around him. He spoke to no one, but made his way easily around the room, dodging between people here and there. His long cape fluttered behind him and swung around him whenever he turned. He glittered. He wore so much jewelry that Alfred couldn't begin to guess the cost of the wealth he wore. He had rings on his fingers and chains of gold and silver around his neck. When he happened closer to the spiral staircase, Alfred could even see that Herbert wore tiny ruby earrings.

Professor Abronsius caught Alfred by the arm and gave him a yank. "Move!" And they dashed to a corner of the room unlit by the candles and well hidden from the revelers. They managed to get their hands on a couple of disguises and, once dressed, they left the safety of their hiding place to blend in with the crowd. Alfred didn't see Sarah anywhere, which worried him, but he also didn't see Chrarlotte and that was a very good thing. However, there was one person Alfred also didn't see and that puzzled him. Sarah's father – Chagal. When he'd found her bathing, Sarah had told Alfred that she couldn't wait until her father came to the castle so he could see how well Count Von Krolock treated her. But her father was already at the castle. He'd already been bitten and made into a vampire and it was he who had led Alfred and Professor Abronsius to the gates of the castle. Why would Count Von Krolock keep that a secret from Sarah?

Alfred watched as Herbert suddenly stopped his tour around the room and looked up, to the top of the staircase. He then raised an arm to indicate what he'd seen. As one, ever vampire in the room turned to see what Herbert had and they fell into an eerie silence.

"Welcome!" Count Von Krolock's voice boomed out from above.

They watched and listened as the count spoke to his people and they hung on his words like fish on a hook. As he spoke, he made his way down the spiral staircase to the ballroom where he walked among his guests as he spoke. He promised them a feast and they were so impatient for it to start. He told them of a girl they were not to touch and then spoke of two mortals damned to stay and Alfred knew the count was talking about him and Professor Abronsius and, as he looked out at the sea of ravenous vampires, felt his breath starting to come in quick, almost painful gasps. He wanted to be away. He wanted to run, but he couldn't leave Sarah. The count had said she could leave of her own free will, and while she didn't seem inclined to leave the last time he'd spoken to her, he was sure that if she knew how upset her mother was, she would surely want to go home. If nothing else, she could assure her mother that going with the count was what she wanted. But he would have to get her away from the danger to talk to her and he had no idea how that was going to happen.

It was then that Sarah made her entrance, walking down the spiral staircase. Her red gown was magnificent and she was radiant with her hair piled on top of her head.

Alfred tried to go to her, but Professor Abronsius held him back. "Not now."

"But…"

"Not now!"

Alfred shook his head and insisted, "No. The count said she can leave if she wants to. I have to tell her that her mother needs her! She'll want to go to her mother!"

Professor Abronsius shot Alfred a poisonous look. "I will not miss an opportunity to see the birth of a vampire! My research demands this sacrifice! Now be silent!"

Alfred was shocked speechless at such callousness. He couldn't do it. He knew then, as Professor Abronsius watched the scene on the dance floor play out with a disturbing glee, that he couldn't obey. He couldn't stand there and let Sarah become a sacrifice for the sake of the professor's research. Professor Abronsius was wrong. He was entirely wrong and that understanding made Alfred's whole world shake. For the first time since he'd come to live under Professor Abrsonsius' rule, Alfred deliberately defied the professor. He opened his mouth to shout to Sarah… but it was too late.

Count Von Krolock bit Sarah and Alfred realized, from the look on her face just before he did so that Sarah knew her fate and welcomed it. She was exactly where she wanted to be.

Alfred's world went dark and then he found himself on his back on the floor. He'd fainted. It was possibly the most stupid and embarrassing thing he'd ever done.

He roused himself as quickly as he could and got back to his feet in time to see the vampires begin to dance. Music from a small group of musicians played a slow waltz. At Professor Abronsius' instruction, they both slipped into the dance and Alfred found himself dancing with someone he didn't know. Partners switched and there was another stranger for Alfred to dance with. All the while, he kept trying to get close to Sarah, still hopeful that there might be a way to get her back to her mother. Dance partners switched, again, and he was dancing, again, with Herbert.

Herbert held him tightly as they danced, as if his arms were iron bands around Alfred. He smiled down at Alfred.

"Sarah?" Alfred asked.

"She's safe with father. You don't have to worry about her."

It didn't reassure Alfred very much.

Herbert frowned a little. "Alfred, cheri, in a little while I'm going take you to father. Do you know what will happen?" He spoke soft and slowly, as if he were trying to gentle a frightened animal.

"I… I think…Herbert, I don't want to be a vampire."

Herbert hugged him. "I know, but sometimes life isn't what we expect it should be. Strange things happen and this is one of those things. You heard what father said, earlier?"

"He said," Alfred's breath hitched. "He's going to let everyone kill us."

"Oh, no!" Herbert's reassurance was instant. "No, they won't kill you. They're just going to drink a little of your blood. Then father's going to turn you into one of us. No!" He tightened his hold when Alfred tried to wiggle away. "Don't panic! It's alright. You won't be alone; I won't leave your side for a minute! And it won't even hurt, father is very good at this sort of thing. He just needs to make sure Sarah's doing alright and then it'll be your turn."

"I don't want a turn."

"Darling, I'm sorry, but there's really no choice. Even we have laws that govern our society and we must follow them. As you know about us, we can't just let you leave. It's either become one of us or die." He reached a hand up and touched Alfred's cheek. "How could we just let you die?"

From behind Alfred came the snarled, "He can die easily!"

Alfred spun around and faced Charlotte who wore a terrible grimace on her face.

Herbert snapped at her, "This is a private conversation!"

"I've come for a taste. Count Von Krolock did say we were to feast."

"That's later."

Charlotte's eyes narrowed. "If you won't give him to me, I'll take him."

Herbert hissed. It was such a bizarre, unexpected reaction that Alfred turned away from Charlotte to look at him and gasped at what he saw. Herbert's face was twisted and hard, his fangs bared like an animal. He looked as if he might push Alfred aside just for the pleasure of ripping Charlotte apart.

And Alfred, caught between two beautiful creatures of the darkness, knew with suddenly clarity that if he were going to have an undead creature sucking the life from his body, he wanted it to be Herbert. Or Count Von Krolock. Or any one of the animalistic vampires in the castle as long as it wasn't Charlotte.

Charlotte lost control first. She lunged for Alfred, but Herbert was faster and shoved him out of the way. Alfred stumbled, but stayed on his feet. He saw Herbert throw Charlotte to the floor and them he leapt on top of her, striking her with his fists time and again. She wasn't weak and managed to reach up to take a handful of his long hair and yank so hard that he threw back his head and let out of a fierce roar. She punched him in the gut, but he slapped the flat of his hand right onto her face with such force that she was sent backwards until her head hit the floor with a sickeningly loud crack.

 _Herbert had more fun wrestling with me,_ Alfred thought, stunned at the sight of them. He also didn't miss that no one in the crowd appeared to notice what was going on in their midst and he wondered if they were really that involved with dancing or if brawls were common parts of their celebrations. Only Count Von Krolock had noticed and, from where he stood with Sarah, looked on with disapproval. When the fight seemed to rise to a greater degree of viciousness, the count started for them, looking more cross than Alfred had seen since he'd arrived at the castle. It was the first time the count had left Sarah's side since she'd walked into the ballroom.

"This is it," Professor Abronsius was at Alfred's side. "Grab the girl and run!"

Soon, they were away.

Sarah was distant as they escaped and seemed half-asleep when Alfred pulled her into the sleigh. Professor Abronsius sat in the front of the sleigh to drive the horses and Alfred sat with Sarah in the back. He held her close and let her rest her head on his shoulder. They were hurdling down the narrow road and out of sight of the castle in minutes.

Alfred hoped feverishly that he'd done the right thing. Sarah was cold as death as she rested against him. He put an arm around her to offer at least a little warmth. Professor Abronsius drove the horses as quickly as they could through the night and the winter wind slapping against Alfred's face made the ride miserable. He took off his coat and draped it over Sarah to give her some protection as her gown was certainly not meant to keep her warm.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the sleigh's seat. There was one fact about their last few days that he couldn't deny, something he had learned but that he knew the professor would surely beat him for daring to suggest – vampires weren't evil monsters. But he had also seen those fangs. He'd heard the hunger in their voices. He'd watched as Sarah had been bitten and then slumped to the floor. They were not evil monsters or unthinking animals, but they were not human. They weren't safe.

Alfred saw the upcoming fork in the road where they would have to turn right in order to get back to Sarah's village and he watched as Professor Abronsius took the left fork, instead.

"Sir!" Alfred shouted over the wind. "You missed the road!"

"We are not going to the village," Professor Abronsius informed him. "How stupid are you? That is the first place they will look for us. Don't be an idiot. We will go to Konigsberg."

"But we have to get Sarah to her mother."

Professor Abronsius shook his head with disgust. "Stop thinking that's she's still a person. She's nothing but a dead thing, now."

Alfred cringed. He felt about two inches tall, as he usually did when the professor pointed out how stupid he was. Alfred put his arms around Sarah. It wasn't right. Sarah shifted against him. She wasn't dead. Not really dead, anyhow. The count and Herbert walked and talked and reasoned. They weren't dead. As much as he didn't want to be bitten and he understood if the professor wanted to get away, the whole reason for going to the castle was to get Sarah back to her mother. If Sarah truly wanted to be with the count, then… well… surely, that was her choice to make, wasn't it? They didn't have any right to steal her away to a foreign city. They were supposed to be rescuing her from being kidnapped, not committing the same crime themselves!

He opened his mouth to try and persuade the professor to head back to the village because it was the right thing to do, but paused when he felt Sarah twitch against his side. She tipped her head until her face pressed against his throat. "Sarah? Are you awake?"

Her lips moved against his neck, but she didn't say anything.

"Are you warm enough?" He turned to look at her, but her mouth was wide open, showing off her new, long fangs.

Alfred yelled as loudly as he could and, as he'd hoped, the professor turned around. However, the professor was so startled by what he saw that he lost control of the horses and they all went careening wildly off the road and into a stand of trees. They were flung from the sleigh. Alfred saw the ground fly by under him and the then the sky before he crashed hard into a tree. The world went dark, and then he was on his stomach in the snow, staring at the wreckage of the sleigh. Sarah was standing some yards away, staring at him.

"Professor?" Alfred tried to call out, but his voice was weak and he couldn't find the strength to yell. "Professor?"

He tried to push himself up, but his right arm, already injured, hurt so badly that it couldn't support him and he fell back into the snow. With just one arm, he managed to get up just enough to turn his head. He felt sick to his stomach and his head hurt. He was so cold. The sleigh was a ruin; clearly, it had smashed against a large tree. The horses, somehow, seemed perfectly fine.

The world blurred and Alfred had to blinked several times before he could see straight and there, back near the road, he saw the professor. He was on his feet, his precious bag of vampire hunting tools in his hands. Aside from losing his hat, he looked entirely unharmed. Professor Abronsius met Alfred's eyes. He looked from Alfred to Sarah, then back to Alfred.

"Help." Alfred held out a hand. "Please."

The professor regarded Alfred solemnly for a moment, then turned his back and ran.

He left.

He was gone.

Alfred stared after where Professor Abronsius had gone. He felt numb and waited, knowing that the professor would return. He wouldn't just abandon Alfred. He wouldn't.

With a rough hand on his shoulder, Alfred was rolled over onto his back. Sarah. She held him down easily while she knelt at his side, then she leaned over and locked her mouth onto his neck and bit. He felt her teeth, long daggers, sink into his neck and then he felt her sucking at him, drawing out as much blood as she could.

It hurt!

Laying in the snow, with Sarah hunched over him, Alfred felt the world start to grey around the edges of his vision. He might have been crying. It was so hard to think. He was cold and scared and the professor had left him. He was alone. After all his time trying so hard to be the best person he could be for the professor, Alfred was alone.

Then she was gone, a weight lifted off his chest. Herbert was shouting and Count Von Krolock was staring into Alfred's face. He stayed there for a moment before he moved away and was replaced with Herbert and Alfred felt himself pulled. His head was on Herbert's lap and Herbert's hand clamped tightly down on the wound Sarah had torn in his throat.

"Alfred, dearest, just stay calm. Oh! I didn't want it to happen like this! Honestly, that professor has a lot to answer for!" Herbert patted Alfred's face, smoothing his hair and, at one point, planted a kiss on Alfred's cheek. "Just lay still and father will fix this. Soon, you'll feel much better… in a manner of speaking." It went on like that for only a few seconds before Herbert glanced at the wound on Alfred's neck. His eyes widened with horror. "F-father! Father, he's still bleeding. Please, hurry! He's still bleeding! We'll lose him!"

The count returned at once and pulled Alfred away from Herbert. He lay Alfred carefully on the ground and ordered Herbert to look after Sarah. When Herbert left to do as he was told, Count Von Krolock said, "Alfred? Can you hear me? Can you speak?"

He tried. He really did, but he was so tired. If he could just rest… just for a short moment.

"Alfred!"

Count Von Krolock's stern voice made Alfred's eyes shoot open. He saw, behind the count, that Herbert was holding onto Sarah, his arms wrapped tightly around her. But the precaution didn't appear to be needed as Sarah wasn't struggling. She stood passively in Herbert's arms and stared at Alfred with wide eyes and his blood on her lips.

"Oh." Sarah's voice was a whisper. "Oh, I didn't want to hurt him."

"Which is why you must stay in father's company when mortals are about, sister, dear," Herbert said gently, the voice was experience. "It wasn't your fault; you are far too young to control your appetite or to cause anything but pain without help."

Alfred was distracted by Count Von Krolock's cool hand on his face, gently rubbing his cheek. He managed to whisper, "Tired."

"I know," the count's voice was soothing. "I know you're tired, but you need to stay awake for just a little while, Alfred. I'm going to look at your neck."

But Alfred was afraid and it hurt and he didn't want anyone to touch it. His head felt fuzzy and confused. He started to squirm and weakly raised a hand to bat at Count Von Krolock. Why hadn't the professor stayed? He hadn't even tried to help. Alfred felt his eyes start to burn with tears as Count Von Krolock easily took hold of his wrists and pushed them down to his sides. He was going to cry, he just knew it! And everyone was watching and his head hurt and Sarah was mean and he didn't want to cry in front of everyone. He just knew Herbert would laugh at him.

When Alfred kept getting more and more upset, Count Von Krolock looked away from him. "Sarah, my dear, I know this has been a strenuous night for you, as well, but I'm going to have Herbert tie you to a tree with the reins from the horses. I'm sorry, but I need Herbert's help and until you can control yourself…"

"There's no need," Sarah quickly said. "I'm perfectly alright."

He frowned. "Are you certain?"

"Very. I'm quite calm. I'm not a bit hungry."

"How extraordinary." Count Von Krolock considered a moment before he nodded. "Very well. Herbert. I need a clear look at his neck to see the damage. Hold him steady."

"Of course, father." Quick as a blink, Herbert was there, kneeling on Alfred's other side and as much as Alfred knew he should be trying even harder to get away from Herbert when he was feeling so weak, all that ran though his mind was that Herbert was going to get his fine trousers dirty. He must have said it out loud, because Herbert smiled down at him. "Darling, it will give me an excuse to commission a new outfit, so don't you fret for my wardrobe. Now, just give me your hands. There's a good little Alfred. No, don't get upset. That'll only make things worse. Father's just going to have a little look. No one's going hurt you. Sarah wouldn't have hurt you, either, but she's a baby and doesn't know any better, yet."

Herbert held onto both of Alfred's hands with only one of his and he put his other hand on Alfred's chest and pressed down to hold him in place. He went so far as to swing one of his long legs over Alfred's to prevent him from kicking.

"Your heart's race, darling. You must calm down. You're safe. I promise."

Even while Herbert tried to reassure him, Alfred felt the count push his head a little to side, exposing his throbbing, aching neck. He let out a whimper and hoped it didn't sound as pathetic as he felt. The count would bite him, too, and then Herbert would and everyone would kill him and it just wasn't fair. His cheek was pressed into the cold snow. He felt the count's long fingernails probing at the wound.

"It could be worse," Count Von Krolock said, at last.

"Please, don't let him die!" Herbert begged.

"We won't lose him." The count then looked at Alfred and said, "I'm sorry, Alfred, but Sarah isn't old enough or strong enough to make you one of us. I'm going to close the wound Sarah made and you'll come back to the ball. If you want it, I'll give you some of that medicine so you won't be afraid, but the guests are waiting and I did promise them a feast. You won't like this and for that, I do apologize." He leaned down towards Alfred and put his mouth on the open wound while Herbert held Alfred steady.

But the count's mouth was only on Alfred for the barest of moments before he sat upright so suddenly that he unbalanced himself and fell backwards onto his backside in the snow. He sat there for a moment, staring at Alfred in disbelief. "…how?" He put his hand to his stomach. "It's gone."

"What is it, father?" Herbert asked, apparently stunned to see his father's reaction. "What's gone?"

The count swallowed hard and sat up. "Herbert, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I can't make Alfred one of us."

"What? But…"

"It can't be done." Then he looked down at Alfred and said, "But we must get your wound closed." He leaned over, pressed his mouth against the wound and began to lick. He wasn't deterred by whatever it was that had startled him so badly before.

Alfred squirmed and protested weakly, the sensation of being licked was so bizarre, but Count Von Krolock paid him no heed and Herbert only kept assuring Alfred that his father knew what he was doing and it was all for the best. Alfred had best lay still and quiet. Everything would be just fine.

The licking was awful, so incredibly uncomfortable, but the pain on his neck did start to lessen after a minute and soon it was gone and the licking stopped.

Count Von Krolock sat up and, with a looked of astounded wonder on his face, he licked his lips clean of Alfred's blood. He patted the side of Alfred's head. "A surprising lad. Very surprising. I never would have guessed."

"Father?" Herbert asked. He still held Alfred firmly. One of his thumbs carefully rubbed the back of Alfred's hand – an unexpectedly comforting gesture.

"Later. A storm comes."

Herbert threw off his cloak and let it out neatly on the ground. He then picked up Alfred in both arms and lay him on the cloak. Very carefully, he wrapped Alfred up until Alfred was wrapped as tightly as a mummy. That done, Herbert lifted Alfred easily into his arms and held him securely. "Father? Is it safe for Alfred to be fed upon? He's so weak."

"Have no fear of that, plans have changed. They won't touch him. In fact, take him directly to your chambers… no. They may guess that. Take him to the blue room. Warm him as best as you are able and have Koukol bring food and drink. Alfred must eat or he may not recover from the blood loss. You will lock him and yourself in with him. If anyone but myself or Koukol tries to get in, you will defend Alfred with all your might or you will take him and flee. Do you understand?"

"Not a bit, but I'll do as you say. What is going on? What will you do about no feast to offer the guests?"

"Oh, they will have their feast and more, they will glut themselves until they're bloated as leeches! I never promised them a hunt or a live offering, only a feast. I will tell them the mortals escaped; not one of them can say they have never lost their prey so they cannot question it." Count Von Krolock gave a decisive nod of his head, though he did seem agitated. He paced back and forth as he spoke, swinging his arms at his sides. "I will open the cellars and have Koukol bring up one hundred bottles of blood from the pantry and they will gorge themselves."

Herbert gasped. "The emergency reserves?"

"I would not do this without good reason. They will drink and then they will go and they will be grateful for my generosity." The count took off his cloak and threw it over Sarah's shoulders. "I will explain everything to you once the guests are out of my territory, but we must hurry, now. And, Herbert?"

"Yes, father?"

"Whatever you do, you must NOT let anyone see him!"

"Don't worry, father. You know I'm the soul of discretion." And then Herbert was moving.

They might have been flying for all Alfred could tell. Herbert was running faster than a horse! Or maybe Alfred's mind was so addled with pain and blood loss that it only seemed like he was. Herbert didn't speak as he moved them through the forest, he stared straight ahead and whatever he was thinking, Alfred had no idea. As Alfred looked up at him he had the sudden notion that Herbert would be a very dangerous enemy to have.

Before long, the castle loomed ahead of them and Alfred, still weak and confused, felt his head loll to the side as sleep began to pull at him. He didn't want to sleep, but he was so tired. He was hungry. Everything hurt. He'd failed Sarah. He was so weak, so powerless compared to everyone around him. It was no wonder than Professor Abronsius had left him behind. Abandoned him. Left him in the snow, injured. He must have known that Alfred would be snatched up by vampires.

Alfred pressed his face against Herbert's coat. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about any of it. He closed his eyes and fell asleep long before Herbert reached the castle.

 **To be continued…**


	6. The Page's Tears

**Chapter 6: The Page's Tears**

 **Herbert-**

Snow began to fall and the wind grew into a gusting gale. Herbert ran on. With Alfred securely in his arms and wrapped against the cold, Herbert ran faster than the horses could have hoped to move. The castle was in sight, silhouetted against the dark sky. Night would last only a few more hours, plenty of time to reach safety.

He looked down at Alfred and frowned at the pale face he saw. Alfred blinked up at him. His eyes didn't quite focus.

"We're almost there, mon cheri. You just rest and father will take care of everything. He'll know what to do."

Alfred opened and closed his mouth a few times. He closed his eyes and made a distressed sort of whine. Then he licked his lips and looked back at Herbert. "Can't move."

"You're all wrapped up to keep you warm. Remember?"

"No. Professor?"

A spike of anger stabbed at Herbert at the mention of the old man, but for Alfred's sake he kept smiling. "He wasn't at the crash, dear."

"Professor?" Alfred tipped his head back and forth, trying to look around as if he would see his professor running beside Herbert. "Sir?"

"He isn't here," Herbert repeated. "If it makes you feel better, I'll go look for him later." He wouldn't look hard, but he would look.

"Professor? Please. My arm hurts, professor. Please. Please. My head…"

Alfred's head lolled against Herbert's shoulder and he fell silent.

Herbert held Alfred tighter and desperately tried to remember anything from his days as a mortal that had to do with healing, but he couldn't recall anything other than watching friend getting bled when they'd had a raging fever. He rather thought Alfred had been bled quite enough for one night.

Herbert could sense his father close by and, a new feeling, he could feel Sarah. She was a spot of warmth in his back of his mind, a delicate fluttering. He'd been so eager to have a sister when his father had confided in him what he'd planned for Sarah. He'd planned to help her decorate her rooms and buy her a new gown as a gift. He'd wanted to sit with her and keep her company during the long adjustment period when she would have to grow accustomed to endless, overpowering hunger. He was so looking forward to getting to know his sister and he would have loved to have a baby brother, but…

Alfred was a dead-weight in Herbert's arms. He wasn't heavy at all, but just lay there limply.

Herbert had no Earthly idea what was going on. He'd known, as soon as he had seen Sarah hunched over Alfred's weakly struggling form in the snow, what had happened. Sarah hadn't been able to cope with the sudden onslaught of hunger that her new life had forced upon her. That was quite a normal reaction and to be expected. It was only thanks to luck that they gotten to Alfred before Sarah had drained him altogether. Herbert understood all that quite well, but why couldn't his father bring Alfred across?

While it was entirely possible that he was bias, Herbert knew that his father was strong. He was the oldest vampire Herbert had ever met and age, to a vampire, meant strength. His father was wise and good and had never failed at anything. He was, in Herbert's mind, nearly perfect. So how was it that he had to admit that he couldn't bring Alfred across? He wasn't inexperienced in the matter. So what was it about Alfred that made it impossible?

Herbert reached the castle, but stopped at the tree line of the forest to consider. He couldn't wait too long, but a little strategy was called for in such situations.

"You hesitate?" Count Von Krolock was at his side, Sarah tucked under his protective arm.

"The castle is too crowded. I can't get him in the normal ways without someone seeing. Do you think he'll panic if I take a short cut to the Blue Room?"

"Do you have a choice? I will take Sarah in the normal way and, I think, we will be decent distraction. I'll have Koukol fetch the refreshments from the cellar and then bring you and Alfred something. He'll bring wood for a fire, too. After the guests are fed, I will have to allow them to sleep the day or risk someone getting suspicious. I think by tomorrow night I may be able to get them away." The count put an arm around Herbert's shoulders and gave him a warm squeeze. "Be careful."

"Aren't I always? I'm going up, now."

The trip across the lawn was easy and fast, far faster than running through the forest where he'd had to dodge trees. He stopped at the castle wall and looked up. Then he looked down and found Alfred still looking at him, still unfocused.

"Alfred, how are you doing?"

Alfred didn't answer and continued to stare.

"Right. Fine. If you can hear me, I'm going to take you somewhere safe, but it's going to be a touch uncomfortable getting there. I need both my hands, so you'll have to forgive this little indignity."

"Cold."

"I'll get you some blankets as soon as possible."

"Can I have a puppy?"

"If you like."

"And the moon?"

"…tricky, but I'll try. Now be still as you can." Herbert hoisted Alfred and slung him over one shoulder. With his hands free, and Alfred precariously balanced, Herbert was able to climb. He dug his hands into the mortar that held the stones of the castle together and pulled himself upward. Hand-over-hand he climbed in that manner and mourned the ruining of his lovely fingernails. Still, it was for a good cause. He'd gotten nearly halfway up the wall when Alfred started to wiggle and he had to pause to put an arm around Alfred to hold him steady. They stayed there, clinging to the stone wall like a spider with it's bundled up prey, until Alfred settled. Herbert resumed his climbing as soon as he could.

"Don't feel good." Alfred moaned.

"Be patient, dearest. We're almost there." He could see the window just a few feet away.

"Sorry."

"What?"

"Sorry, Herbert." Alfred's speech was becoming slurred. "So sorry."

"Whatever for?"

Alfred vomited.

Herbert froze. He could smell it. He could feel it seeping through the back of his clothes. It was probably in his hair. As calmly as he could, Herbert asked, "Alfred, pet, are you alright?"

"Sleepy."

"I don't doubt it. You've had a very busy night." He was going to have to burn his outfit, the beautiful clothes his father had bought for him. Still, it wasn't Alfred's fault. Being battered in such a way would give anyone a bad turn. But his hair…

Herbert reached the window at last and pulled open the shutters so he could climb in. The Blue Room was at the very top of the tallest tower. He climbed in and carefully set Alfred down on the floor before he closed and locked the shutters, then drew heavy curtains across the window. It was a lonely room, far removed from everything. It was well-named for nearly everything in the room was blue. The blankets on the bed were blue. There were tapestries on the wall, all done in shades of blue. Even the rugs on the floor were blue. Alfred wouldn't be able to see in the darkness, but Herbert could see it all very well.

The first order of business was making Alfred as comfortable as possible. Herbert pulled the blankets off the bed and gave them a good shake to get the dust off, then remade the bed. It was no effort at all to get an unresisting Alfred into bed. After unwrapping Alfred from his cloak, Herbert tossed the cloak aside and shook his head at Alfred's wet and bloody clothes. It just wouldn't do. He stripped Alfred right to the skin and while he wasn't entirely opposed to getting Alfred in bed and undressing him, it was just no fun at all if Alfred wasn't awake and having fun, too.

Herbert frowned at the vivid bruises liberally decorating Alfred's body. His chest must have been scraped against something during the crash for while there was no blood, a layer of skin had been peeled off. Alfred's arm, from wrist to elbow was swollen and bruised. He was a pitiful sight and Herbert knew that when his father found out how hurt Alfred had gotten while a guest in the castle, he would be furious with himself. One did not let a guest suffer in such a manner.

Though it all, Alfred watched Herbert with half-closed eyes. He didn't protest or argue or try to cover himself.

When Alfred began to tremble from the cold, Herbert quickly pulled the blankets up over Alfred and tucked him in. "You can go to sleep, now, Alfred. You're safe and I'll get the fire started as soon as Koukol brings up some firewood." He stroked Alfred's hair. "That's right. Time to rest, close your eyes."

Alfred was asleep in moments.

Herbert kept running his fingers through Alfred's hair and only stopped when his fingers brushed across a large, raised lump on Alfred's head. It was worrisomely large, the size of a large chicken egg, and when Herbert drew his fingers away from the lump, his fingers were coated with blood.

The hunger roared.

It was a temptation he just couldn't resist. And it wasn't as if he was biting Alfred while he was sleeping, and it was only enough for a taste, just a few licks. Herbert had behaved so well, so very respectfully, and had shown excellent control when he'd had to stand there and watch his father tasting Alfred and holding Sarah while she had the sweet smell of Alfred's blood on her mouth that surely he deserved a little reward of a taste.

Herbert lapped at his fingers and, for the first time in years… he wasn't hungry. He was so stunned by the sensation that he collapsed to his knees beside the bed. He felt full, satiated. There was no burning, gnawing pain festering in his stomach, like a beast trying to claw its way out of him. It was just… gone! Herbert put a hand on his stomach, not quite believing, and he brought his bloody hand back to his mouth for another taste. It tasted good, but didn't inspire any desperation to have more. He didn't feel the urge to suck ever last drop of blood from his hands as he ordinarily would. Putting one hand on the side of the bed, Herbert got to his feet and looked down at Alfred's sleeping face in shock.

He shook himself out of it. Alfred's head was still bleeding. Herbert took a handkerchief from the sleeve of his billowing white shirt and folded it into a small, neat square that he pressed to the lump on Alfred's head. He looked around for something to tie it on, but found nothing that would suit until his eyes fell on Alfred's red tie. He picked up the tie from the pile of discarded clothes and wrapped it twice around Alfred's head. When done, he looked proudly at his work only a moment before he bolted the door closed from the inside to keep out unwanted visitors. All that done, he unhappily took off his coat to examine the damage.

 **Alfred-**

Alfred woke slowly and painfully. Everything hurt – his back, his arm, his head… there wasn't a place on him that didn't feel battered. He didn't open his eyes for a time, but lay where he was and let his mind try to sort itself out. He could hear something… water, maybe. He could smell soap. He was warm and oh, wasn't that a wonderful feeling? He hadn't felt so warm in ages.

He'd been… dancing? Wasn't he dancing? That wasn't right. He didn't know how to dance. But he definitely remembered being in a room with lots of people dancing. Funny. He'd been scared of the dancers. Why… oh, yes. They were vampires. What an odd thing to forget. He wondered if he'd been able to dance with… someone. There was someone he'd been expecting to dance with. It likely didn't matter.

"Alfred?"

Then there was yelling and people were angry about something. Then there was cold and fear and… Sarah.

Sarah bit him.

Professor Abronsius ran away.

"Alfred, are you awake?"

Herbert and the count arrived. Herbert had held him.

Professor Abronsius ran away.

The count spoke softly and stopped the pain from Sarah's bite.

Herbert carried him back to the castle.

Professor Abronsius ran. He left. He'd seen that Alfred needed help and he didn't care.

"It's time to wake up, Alfred. Come along."

The count's voice dragged Alfred out of his dozing state and he opened his eyes. The room was warmly lit with firelight from candles and a wide fireplace. He could hear the crackle of the fire as he burned. Alfred rolled to his left and only then realized he wasn't alone in the bed. While Alfred was snuggly under several heavy blankets, Count Von Krolock sat on the bed, on top of the blankets, with his long legs stretched out in front of him and his hands clasped on his lap. His immense cloak was draped partly over Alfred, as if it were another blanket.

Count Von Krolock smiled down at Alfred, watching him. After a moment he said, "Good evening."

Feeling more than a bit awkward at the situation, Alfred started to push himself up, but the pain in his arm was so horrible that he couldn't put any weight on it at all and the rest of his body felt as if he'd been run over by a stampede of horses. He was about to try sitting up, again, when the count's large, cool hands took hold of him and gently pulled him upright. The count propped Alfred against his side and put his big arm around Alfred. He even wrapped part of his cloak over Alfred's shoulders for warmth.

Alfred was not comfortable. In fact, he could think of few things that would make him less comfortable than cuddling with a vampire. The fact that he was wearing Herbert's nightshirt made him even more uncomfortable because he was certain he'd had real clothing on before which meant that someone had taken his clothes off and redressed him and he had the sneaking suspicion that someone just might have been Herbert. Then Alfred turned his head and saw Herbert. Herbert stood at a little table with a water basin on it and was washing his long hair. He was also entirely naked.

Alfred grabbed the first thing his hands could find – the count's cloak – and brought it up to his face to hide in.

Alfred could feel the count's great rumbling laughter vibrating in his chest. "You don't need to be shy about looking at him," the count said. "Herbert certainly isn't shy about letting people look at him. He has nothing to be ashamed of, I suppose. I have heard he is considered reasonably attractive."

"What?" Herbert snapped. "Reasonably attractive? Reasonably? I'm gorgeous and you know it!"

The count shrugged with complete indifference. "If you say so."

Alfred lowered the bit of cloak he was hiding behind just enough to catch a glimpse of Herbert standing at the foot of the bed, still bare, with his long, wet hair hanging limply around his face. He looked like a disgruntled cat that'd just fished out of a duck pond.

Herbert saw Alfred watched and smiled. "Hello, darling! I'm so happy to see you're awake. I was starting to worry, but you certainly look like you're feeling better."

Alfred hid his face, again, this time embarrassed to be caught looking. "Why aren't you wearing anything?"

"Someone," Herbert stressed the word. "Got my outfit a bit messy and I don't see the point in putting on clean clothing when I have to wash my hair – everything would just get wet. Ugg, the state of my hair! And my coat was a complete loss. Alfred, my sweet, if I weren't so very much in love with you, I'd take a pound of flesh for what you did to my hair!"

In a mild, almost bored tone, the count said, "There will be no pounding of flesh while I'm in the room, Herbert."

Herbert choked. "That was not what I meant!"

"But you were thinking it."

"Well… "

Alfred called out, "Herbert? Will you put clothes on? Please?"

"I suppose if I must." He was quiet a moment then said, "Alright. Your delicate eyes are safe."

When Alfred looked up, he was comforted to see that while Herbert wasn't entirely dressed, he had his cloak wrapped around his waist, covering him right down to his feet, but leaving his chest bare. Alfred opened his mouth to ask why Herbert was upset about his jacket and then he remembered what he'd done while hanging upside-down over Herbert's shoulder and he wanted to disappear. He'd managed to throw up on Herbert. The shame!

Count Von Krolock chuckled. "You hit your head, Alfred. Feeling nauseous is to be expected." Then he turned to look over to his left. "Sarah? Dear? Alfred is awake."

Alfred leaned over a little to look on the count's other side and saw Sarah napping, all curled up at the count's side. At the count's voice, she stretched and yawned wide enough to show off her long fangs. She looked like a sleepy kitten. Her eyes blinked open and she looked up.

"Alfred!" Sarah shot up and hugged Alfred, without seeming to mind that she was hugging him over the count who appeared to be amused by the whole situation. "Oh, I was so worried. I'm sorry, please forgive me. I didn't want to hurt you but you were there and I was so very, very hungry! I just couldn't help myself. You're alright now, aren't you?"

She was squeezing his hurt arm and her hands clutched at his aching back. He didn't complain. He let her hug him. She was a vampire, for better or worse, but she still seemed like Sarah. She didn't suddenly become a demonic thing as the professor had said she would. He was just so happy that she was herself. "I'm alright. I was afraid you'd gotten hurt."

Sarah laughed and finally released Alfred from the hug. "Oh, I'm very well. I feel stronger than ever!"

It would have shocked Professor Abronsius to hear someone being so happy about being a vampire.

The professor.

"Excellency," Alfred shot a fleeting look up at Count Von Krolock. "Where is Professor Abronsius?"

"I think you know the answer to that, don't you?" Count Von Krolock raised one of his impressive eyebrows.

Yes. Alfred did know. He'd been abandoned. He shouldn't be surprised. Why would Professor Abronsius bother to save him?

Count Von Krolock put a hand on Alfred's cheek. "I can see your eyes starting to water, but don't fret about that man. You'll be better off without him and, in time, you'll understand that I'm right. Enough about him. You need to eat." He waved a hand and Koukol was there, setting a plate of food on Alfred's lap.

Koukol regarded Alfred and said something Alfred didn't understand, but then he reached one of his huge paws up and patted Alfred on the shoulder before he hurried out of the room.

"He was worried for you," Herbert said before he went to the open window and poured out the basin of water only to refill it from a pitcher on the floor beside his little table and start to wash his hair, again.

"Yes," the count agreed. "He told me you helped him clean. How very kind. You should be pleased – he doesn't like very many people. Now, eat."

Alfred looked from the count to the plate of food. "I'm not really…"

"No." The count was very firm. "I don't want to hear that you aren't hungry. I don't believe you've eaten a single bite of food since you arrived. You will eat and you will drink and then we will discuss what is to become of you."

If Alfred had been at all hungry those ominous words would have killed his appetite altogether. But he couldn't ignore the order and it was rude to refuse offered food. So he ate, though slowly, and all the while the count watched patiently. He didn't try to hurry Alfred, but sat on the bed with his hands folded on his lap and waited. When Alfred was finished, the plate cleaned and two mugs of water drunk, the count motioned at Herbert, who took the tray away and set it on a chair placed near the door. Herbert, still dressed in nothing but his cloak, stayed by the door.

Count Von Krolock sat up a little straighter and told Sarah, "Go stand with your brother." When Sarah had done that and was holding Herbert's hand, as if she really were his little sister, the count stood and paced the room for a minute. He stopped at the foot of the bed and finally said, "I have been trying to think of the best way to explain the situation, Alfred, but it will be difficult no matter what I say…"

"Am I vampire?" Alfred blurted it out. Then he slapped a hand over his mouth for interrupting.

The count didn't seem displeased, though. "No. That is what we must discuss. Do you remember that Herbert and I arrived after Sarah had attacked you?"

"Yes, Excellency."

The count shook his head. "We will move beyond such lofty titles, I think. If you feel you must call me by some honorific, sir will suffice."

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. You are a rare type of human, Alfred. So rare that I have never met one of your kind, I have only ever heard stories. Your blood is able to stop the hunger. I don't know how or why, but it is a fact. Sarah told me that she wasn't feeling at all hungry after she tasted your blood. That is unheard of for our people. When a fledgling - a very young vampire - is newborn, they are driven near mad with hunger. She should have been wild with the hunger for self-control is something that must be learned. No vampire is ever without the hunger, even if we are presented with an ocean of blood to gorge on, we can never feel satisfied. We can learn control. Yet, Sarah had no hunger at all. When I tasted your blood, for the first time in many, many years, the hunger vanished. One taste and it was gone. It has been near twelve hours since I tasted your blood and I am still without that cursed hunger." He looked at Alfred with a sort of wonder as he said it, but only for the briefest of moments before he schooled his expression. "I don't know how long the effects of your blood will last, perhaps hours or days, but all the stories agree that it is only temporary. Soon, Sarah will revert to a more savage state and you won't be able to see her for quite a while."

"She can have more of my blood if she needs it," Alfred promptly offered.

"That's very kind, but I won't allow her to taste you, again, until she has learned how to control herself. She must learn that and then she may indulge. As I said, the effect your blood has on us is temporary and I don't want Sarah to get herself into a situation where she can't have your blood and doesn't know how to control her hunger. That wouldn't be good for anyone."

Alfred fingered the blanket on his lap. "Oh. Right, then. Ah… what happens now?"

Count Von Krolock walked to Alfred's side and took hold of Alfred's chin, lifting it enough that Alfred had to look at him. "I know this is hard for you, but you must pay very close attention. Understand?" When Alfred nodded, the count continued. "What happens now is that you have a choice to make. I can't bring you across; you can rest easy knowing that such a thing won't even be attempted because if the stories are correct then it would kill you. It is in everyone's best interests for you to stay alive and healthy for a long, long time. You may stay here, at the castle. You are more than welcome. I can provide everything you could need or want – clothes, food, books and if you have other wants, all you need to do is ask and I will do everything I can to get it for you in exchange for a few drops of your blood now and then. You wouldn't even have to be bitten; a simple pinprick on the finger will give all that we would need."

"But… I don't _have_ to stay?"

"I have heard accounts of others who'd tried to forcibly keep your kind near, but it always ends in death or madness. I won't do that to you. However, you need to keep in mind that if you do leave, you may well be discovered by another of my people and I can't guarantee that they will be so considerate of your well-being. You may find yourself imprisoned, even chained up, or you may be randomly attacked on night by someone who has no idea what you are and they will kill you without realizing why you should be protected. Here, I can protect you." He stood up and looked down at Alfred. "Whatever you decide, I will respect it. I'll give you time to think, now." He held out a hand to Sarah, who took it, and they left the room together with the count's cloak flaring behind them.

Herbert, still leaning against the wall with his hands folded in front of him, watched his father leave, but didn't make any move to follow as Alfred thought he might. Instead, Herbert sat down on the edge of the bed. "We'll have to get you a cloak, too. The castle gets dreadfully cold in the winter as I'm sure you've noticed. A nice wool cloak will be perfect. I don't think black would suit you… maybe green."

"But if I don't stay…"

"You have to stay."

"The count said I don't have to!"

Herbert looked at Alfred with large, sad eyes. "But if you leave, I'll be lonely."

Alfred bit his lip at the sight of Herbert looking so down-hearted and felt guilty, though he wasn't sure why. "Well… I _might_ stay."

Herbert beamed.

While Alfred wasn't completely comfortable being alone with Herbert, he had to concede that Herbert hadn't tried to attack him since that night when Alfred had walked into the wrong room and surprised him. Herbert had apologized later and it seemed he was sincere and tried to behave.

"You aren't going to grab me again, are you?" Alfred asked.

"Not while you're hurt, but maybe when you feel better. And, really, I wasn't trying to hurt you. Or scare you. I don't like scaring people. I was just impatient, but I won't do it, again. You have my word on that. Now, we'll have time to get to know each other properly."

It hit Alfred like a bolt that he had nowhere else to go. He had no home, no family waiting for him. He had no profession and no training for any kind of work; he didn't even have any money to buy an apprenticeship. Professor Abronsius had been his life for so long that without the professor snapping orders at him, Alfred felt rather like a ship without an anchor, just bobbing along on a rough sea. He didn't know what to do.

If he were to stay, he wondered, would the count be like Professor Abronsius? Would he tell Alfred what and when and how to do everything? Would he be strict or would he ignore Alfred entirely unless he wanted a taste of Alfred's blood? Would he share Alfred with others? That last thought worried him most. He supposed the count would share with Sarah and Herbert, and Alfred supposed that he might be able to get used to that, but what if the count shared Alfred with strangers? What if vampires just started showing up to get a taste of him? Alfred didn't like the idea of being shared around as if he were a canteen of water to be shared around a campfire. What if the count decided to share Alfred with Charlotte? No. Alfred didn't like that idea one bit.

He wanted to know more about the count.

"Herbert," Alfred asked, cautiously. "Please, could you please tell me how you met His Excellency? Or is he truly your father and you've always known him?"

"Well, I suppose he's not _really_ my father in the way you think of it, but I do love him as one would love a father. Our people don't," Herbert paused, apparently looking for appropriate words. "We don't breed as humans do. We don't have babies, at least not that I've ever heard of. We chose our children. Don't ask about mine - I'm really not strong enough to make children, yet. I met father a good many years ago." Again, he paused and, oddly, he leaned away from Alfred and looked down at his lap. "Are you sure you want to hear this story? It's not very nice."

Alfred's eyes widened and he, very cautiously, reached out to lightly touched Herbert's arm. "Did… did His Excellency hurt you?"

"What? No, no. I told you, darling, he would never hurt me. No, it's just that, well, it's just not a happy story."

"You don't have to tell. We can talk about something else."

Herbert got off the bed and walked to the window where he sat on the sill. "No. It's alright. It's not really a secret. When I was mortal, I lived in Paris. It was very beautiful and I loved it dearly. I was a page at court of the emperor. Oh, the things I saw and heard! The scandal that went on in that place!" He laughed a little. "You would have blushed to the tips of your ears, darling."

"Really?" Alfred asked. "Nobles?"

"In this case, the word noble refers to bloodlines, not character. Well, I was quite content; it was a good position to have and might have led to greater things. Really, I couldn't have asked for better. My mother, you see, was the mistress of a nobleman. I am, quite literally, a bastard. While I never knew him but for stories she'd told me, he was good enough to arrange for me to be brought to court when I was twelve-years-old and I was made a page. It was an opportunity for me and I was able to send my wages home to my mother to help her until she died when I was fourteen. When I was fifteen when I met Rene. He was quite a bit older than me, perhaps thirty-five, but he was very handsome. He was so dashing; tall and strong with a black moustache and dark eyes." Herbert had a far-away look on his face as he spoke, but he didn't smile. "I was head-over-heels for Rene the moment I saw him. He was very kind to me and I was flattered. I didn't think I was so obvious, but he cornered me one day and said he'd seen me staring. He started giving me presents and, soon after, took me to his bed."

Alfred looked away from Herbert, wishing he hadn't asked.

Herbert chuckled, but it was a bitter sound that didn't seem right coming from him. "Don't look so sad, darling. It wasn't bad. He taught me a lot."

Alfred looked at Herbert with wide eyes. "Wait a minute! You were fifteen? Even back then… you mean I didn't…."

Herbert smiled, indulgently. "No, Alfred, you didn't corrupt me. In that manner I was well and truly corrupted long before you were even born. To get back to my story - time went on. I remember very clearly that one night, not long after dusk, a man appeared at court and was introduced as Count Von Krolock. I was in the background, as was usual, when he walked in. I don't recall what he spoke with His Imperial Majesty about, but he was an imposing man. I remember he spoke with a very deep voice and, he looked at me. Few of His Imperial Majesty's guests ever saw me, but he looked straight at me where I stood in the shadows and he smiled."

"So, you weren't afraid of him?"

"I had no reason to be. I didn't know who or what he was, though there were rumors. I heard other servants and even the nobles whispering that the emperor's guest was a vampire. He was never seen during the day and never seen to eat, but it was all just gossip. He was a gentleman and a favorite of the emperor. They spoke like old friends. One night we met in the hall in the servant quarters. A guest like him wasn't supposed to be in the servant quarters, but I don't think father ever bothered too much with social rules. He asked me to leave Paris with him. He said he could give me a life of great power and I would never be a servant to any man, again. He could give me a life where my youth and beauty would never fade. Naturally, there would be a price. I turned him down. At the time, he seemed to be a man whose mind wasn't all there. Besides, I was in Paris with a good position and I had Rene - I was very happy. Before the count left Paris, he found me again and told me where I could find him in Transylvania if I changed my mind. Imagine, I thought, traveling halfway around the world to live in Transylvania when I could have everything I wanted in Paris!"

"But you did follow His Excellency."

"I did. You see, my Rene decided that I was getting a little too old for his taste. I was twenty, by then. Filled out rather well, too. In fact, I'd been promoted to footman only several days earlier. Rene said he'd found a boy that he felt suited him better than the young man I'd become. Then he decided it was best for him if I were to leave the court. He thought I might tell someone exactly how well I knew him and he didn't want his reputation spoiled. He went and whispered to the emperor that he had learned I was a… I won't repeat that rude word, Alfred, dear. The emperor was actually very good about the whole thing, but he couldn't keep me at court if that sort of rumor started flying around. He very kindly took me into a private room and explained that it would be best for me to leave. He didn't want to make a scene or ruin my name. He would spread the tale that he'd sent me away to serve in his army after I'd expressed an interest in serving my country. He was generous before I left, gave me quite enough money to start a modest life and a shining recommendation so I could find a new position… I still have it around here, I think. I'd served him very well, you see, and he appreciated loyal help."

Alfred swallowed a hard lump in his throat. "That's horrible!

"Not really. The emperor might have had me executed. It wouldn't be the first time that's happened."

"Not him – Rene!"

"Yes. That was rather awful. But I made my way to Transylvania and it all worked out in the end. I had a long while to think, you see. I thought back to all the rumors I'd heard about Count Von Krolock and all the horror stories people told about vampires. Still, I went to him. The count's offer of an eternal youth kept running though my mind." Herbert's shoulders slumped a little as he spoke and he looked out the window rather than at Alfred. "I had this silly notion that if I could promise not to grow any older that perhaps Rene would want me, again. Thinking back on that now, it was rather pathetic, wasn't it? Sarah wanted to be brought across so she could travel the world and have grand adventures whereas I just wanted to have back a man who'd thrown me aside."

Alfred wanted to say something, but he had no idea what to say. He didn't think it was pathetic, though. He did think it sad that Herbert had been so clearly in love with someone who could so easily abandon him. The age difference between Herbert and Rene was no issue, Alfred knew that girls of such young ages would marry much older men for various reasons, but that a man would treat a very young Herbert in such a way seemed very wrong. At fifteen-years-old, Alfred had been freshly out of the poorhouse and living with Professor Abronsius. How lucky he'd been that he hadn't fallen into the company of a man who would mistreat him!

Herbert continued, "I somehow found the castle and I waited at the gates until the count came out and found me there. It was dismal meeting, I'm afraid. Rene was still on my mind all the time back then and I couldn't seem to go a day without thinking of his betrayal. I'd started to cry, again, and that was how the count found me." Herbert waved a negligent hand around. "The rest is history. He offered me something I couldn't refuse, explained disadvantages as well as the advantages of being a vampire, and I accepted."

"What did he offer?"

"Power. When Rene betrayed me, when I'd been dismissed from my position, and when I'd wandered Europe alone and friendless, I had felt so weak and I never wanted to feel like that, again. The count made me strong and fast with the bite, and he even gave me his name. I am now Herbert Von Krolock and that name is powerful, in itself. I have a home and a fine education. I had received a basic education during my time at court, but father tutored me right in his library, teaching me everything from history and mathematics to music and philosophy. If I were to leave today I am confident I could survive any situation the world threw at me and I owe it all to father."

Alfred lay his sore head down on the pillow. "Thank you for telling me."

"As I said, it's not really a secret."

"What about Rene?"

"What about him?"

"You said you wanted to stay young for him. Did you go back to find him?"

"Oh, eventually. But when I saw him, it was as if I could truly see him for the first time. He was rude to the servants. He groped a maid and made her cry. Following him through the streets one night, I even saw him slap a little old grandmother begging in the street for no other reason that she happened to be in his path. I was disgusted. How could I have once thought so highly of such a ghastly man? Well, the young often make poor choices." Herbert jumped up from his seat and came back to the bed where he sat in a chair beside the bed at Alfred's side. "I know a much better person, now. He is very sweet and cute. He has the loveliest brown eyes. He is ever so well-mannered and has the kindest heart I've ever known. I have seen him take great pains to help people he cares for, even if they don't always deserve it."

Alfred wondered who this man was who'd caught Herbert's attention. He sounded like a wonderful person, whoever he was. Alfred didn't like the little curl of sadness he felt in his chest. Hadn't Herbert said he loved Alfred?

Alfred also wondered if he ought to mention that the object of Hebert's affection might not appreciate it if he knew Herbert had been flirting with Alfred. Herbert should be more considerate to his friend's feelings.

With a yawn Alfred pulled the blankets up closer to his chin and started to curl up. He didn't really want Herbert in the room with him while he was sleeping, but didn't think he'd have a choice. He was starting to get too tired to stay awake. "It's still a sin." Alfred yawned, again. "You shouldn't be falling in love with other men."

"I don't see how love can be a sin."

That was more sensible than Alfred wanted to think about. He carefully put his hurt arm up on his chest and hoped he wouldn't roll onto it while he slept. "Are you staying here? You don't have to." Not that Alfred could stop Herbert. He was entirely helpless in his condition. He didn't even think he could run if he tried.

"Father asked me to stay to make sure no one bothers you while you sleep. I'll stay. If you want it, father left some of that medicine to take the pain away and help you sleep."

But Alfred was already drifting away to sleep and didn't want to wake up enough to take the medicine when it was so much easier to just close his eyes and let sleep take him.

 **Charlotte-**

Deep in the forest, less than a mile away from the castle of Count Von Krolock, Charlotte stood in a glade and faced a group of murderous thieves, fourteen men in all, who made their living by robbing hapless travelers. They were a ruthless bunch, but they were just the weapon she needed.

"It's a generous reward," Charlotte held the heavy sack high enough that every one of the band of cutthroats could see it. "A full sack of gold in payment for an attack on that village." She pointed down into the valley below Count Von Krolock's castle where a small village sat. "Take what you please, I don't care, but the attack must take place at night." She didn't believe any of the men would ever live to claim their reward, but it was enough for her purpose that they tried. It would be an excellent distraction.

 **To be continued…**


	7. Snuggling

**Chapter 7: Snuggling**

 **Alfred-**

He woke with difficulty, again. The pain in his head was still there, but not nearly as horrible as it had been before. Most of his aches seemed to be lessening, but for his arm. That was still as painful as ever. Slowly, he woke and found himself in the same room as before, but he was alone in the bed. Herbert slept in a chair next to the bed. He looked surprisingly human with his long legs stretched out in front of him. One hand rested on the arm of the chair while the other rested on his lap. His head was lolled forward.

Certainly didn't look like a monster like that.

He was also, still dressed in nothing but for his cloak wrapped around his waist.

Alfred sat up as quietly as he could, holding his hurt arm against his chest, and sat there for a time, just looking at Herbert. The strange thought wandered across Alfred's mind on whether or not Herbert would let Alfred braid his hair. It was long enough, but Herbert wasn't a girl. He had a strong, firm jaw and a long, Roman nose. His hands were large. So he wouldn't want his hair braided and Alfred wouldn't know how to braid it anyway. If he tried, it would probably turn out badly then Herbert would laugh at him.

After getting out of the bed, Alfred cautiously crept across the room until he was directly in front of Herbert. Once there and fairly sure that Herbert wasn't going to wake, Alfred crouched down in front of Herbert and looked up at him. It was funny to be able to admire without any fear of discovery. Professor Abronsius wouldn't suddenly walk in. Count Von Krolock and Sarah and every other person in the castle were surely sleeping as soundly as Herbert was. So Alfred sat on the floor and looked up at Herbert. He was beautiful. Alfred felt sure that no matter where Herbert went he must have always been the center of attention. His wondered how that Rene could have discarded someone like Herbert.

As a vampire, Herbert scared Alfred to pieces, but what had he been like as a human? Had he been so confidant as he was now? Had he tried to hide his preferences before he'd had the protection of Count Von Krolock? Had he been shy or serious? Had he teased the maids? Played pranks?

Alfred narrowed his eyes, studying the shape of Herbert's mouth.

"I bet you played pranks on everyone."

Herbert didn't wake at the sound of Alfred's voice. He also didn't seem to be breathing and Alfred worriedly put his thumbnail to his mouth to chew on. Herbert really did look dead. His pallor and unnerving stillness took all illusion of life from him.

Hesitantly, Alfred reached out and put his fingers on Herbert's wrist. There was nothing. Did vampires have beating hearts? Were they supposed to breathe? He almost pulled his hand away from Herbert's wrist when he felt a distinct thump against his fingertips. There was nothing else for several minutes and then he felt another thump. So vampires did have a heartbeat, just not the same as a human's.

Professor Abronsius would have liked to know, but he never would. Even if Alfred left Count Von Krolock's castle, he wasn't sure he'd ever see Professor Abronsius, again.

Alfred bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. Professor Abronsius had been wrong before. He had said vampires were nothing but evil demons, but evil demons surely wouldn't feel so much pain and regret as Count Von Krolock had when he'd been in the castle's crypt reminiscing about lost loves. And would an evil demon be worried because he thought Alfred was sick, like Herbert had been? Would an evil demon have hugged him so warmly because she was relieved he hadn't died like Sarah had? If the professor was wrong about that, then he might have made other mistakes.

Professor Abronsius had wanted Alfred to let himself get turned into a vampire and, as he'd had said before, vampires were evil. So… he wanted Alfred to be evil? Professor Abronsius had been happy to let Sarah get turned into one just so he could see how it was done. If he wanted to make more evil, didn't that make him evil or did it just mean that evil didn't matter as much as he'd always said it did? Or did it simply mean that he was lying about the whole thing?

Alfred sat at Herbert's feet, pondering, trying to work his way through the confusing mess in his head. He had never had any reason to doubt the professor before, but sitting there with nothing to do for the first time in a very long while, he had time to think.

A thought crept into Alfred's mind, so suddenly that it took him by surprise. What if the professor was also wrong about it being evil to kiss other men?

Alfred looked up at Herbert, still sleeping so deeply. He could feel his heart pounding. The professor might have been wrong or maybe he'd even outright lied. He'd lied about coming to the castle to save Sarah; he'd obviously had no intention of saving her. What if kissing men wasn't so horribly evil? He'd told Alfred that the church said it was wrong, but the professor had never actually let Alfred attend a church service and before, in the poorhouse, he couldn't remember the vicar ever saying anything one way or the other about men kissing men.

Alfred felt lightheaded. He kept chewing nervously on his thumbnail.

Herbert's lips weren't as pale as the rest of his skin. He was very muscular, like one of those old statues of Greek heroes in museums.

Alfred pulled his thumb away from his mouth and used his good hand to push himself up onto his knees in front of Herbert. He leaned forward a bit and, gathering up all his courage for the effort, put a hand on Herbert's exposed knee.

There was no reaction. Herbert stayed asleep. Alfred had half-expected Herbert to spring awake and pounce on him… or just laugh at him for the audacity of a person like Alfred even thinking to touch someone like Herbert.

The skin under Alfred's hand was cool to the touch. Herbert's legs and chest were hairier than Alfred had expected and he wondered if other parts of Herbert were covered in hair, too.

If Professor Abronsius was wrong and kissing a man wasn't going to forever damn him…

Herbert was so very striking.

Alfred raised his hand, brought his fingers up close to Herbert's face. He had a powerful urge to touch Herbert's lips. He hovered the tips of his fingers over Herbert's face.

But if Professor Abronsius was had been telling the truth…

Alfred pulled his hand away from Herbert and inched away until he'd put his back against the wall opposite of Herbert. He looked at his hand and then at Herbert. It was so tempting.

Alfred got to his feet. He needed to get away from Herbert for just a minute.

He didn't know whether it was day or night, but he didn't dare open the window to find out for fear that it might be day time and that he might let the light in. He wasn't sure if that part of the vampire legend was true or not, but decided it would be best not to take chances with Herbert in the room.

The room was cold and Alfred wondered if vampires could feel the cold. If they weren't really monsters, then it was possible that they might feel cold. Alfred pulled one of the blankets from the bed and draped it over Herbert, covering him from shoulders to toes. Then, Alfred took another blanket from the bed and wrapped it around himself then left the room.

He'd only gone a few steps away from the door before Koukol rounded a corner and spotted him. With that heavy, painful-looking limp of his, he came up to Alfred and looked him up and down. He said something.

"I'm sorry." Alfred shook his head, apologetically. "I don't understand. Please, will you try, again?"

Koukol's mouth was malformed. It looked hard for him to get the words out, but he clearly knew what he wanted to say. "Back to bed," he forced the words out. "Rest."

"I'm much better now, thank you," Alfred assured him. "I just wanted to think for a bit and I think better if I'm doing something." He shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what to do."

Koukol shook his head. "Hurt."

"No, I'm really much better." Alfred choked back a cry when Koukol reached out and touched his right arm. "Well, maybe that arm's a bit sore…"

"Broken."

"No. I'm sure it's not that bad. It's just bruised. It'll be better soon."

"Broken. Bed." Koukol didn't wait for any argument. He reached up with one hand and grabbed Alfred by the scruff of the neck and hauled him back into the room where Herbert still slept. He walked Alfred over to the bed and waited there until Alfred climbed back in and pulled the blankets over himself as best as he could. When he had trouble straightening the blankets out due to his hurt arm, Koukol did the job himself.

"Really," Alfred protested while he watched Koukol moved around the room to tend the fire and make sure the curtains were securely over the window for Herbert's sake. "I'm not tired. I need something to do."

Koukol looked at him with a look that might have been exasperated, if Alfred was reading him, properly. "Sleep now, work later."

Alfred slouched and sighed. "Yes, sir."

Koukol started so badly that he froze for a moment and stared at Alfred. Then he left the room. A moment later he returned with a book in his hands. He gave the book to Alfred then set an inkwell and a quill on the little side-table near Alfred. "Draw."

Alfred opened the book and found that it was made of blank pages. He looked up at Koukol. "I'm not an artist. I can't draw."

"Draw." Koukol insisted.

"Yes, sir." Again, it seemed to take Koukol by surprised, but he didn't correct Alfred and left the room. Alfred could write, though he didn't have a very steady hand and badly misspelled many words. He could read if the words weren't too hard. Drawing was something he had never attempted. While he had admired some of the drawings he'd seen in the books Professor Abronsius had in his house, the idea of producing anything like the delicate pictures of rare birds and fascinating insects seemed quite impossible. Still, it was an order and Alfred felt something in him settle once he had been set a task.

What to draw? He thought of Professor Abronsius' scientific texts with drawings of rare things.

Alfred looked around the room. Stone walls, a fire, the bed he was confined to, a couple of chairs and… Herbert.

And Herbert was surely a very rare creature!

 **Herbert-**

Herbert woke to singing. The voice was not one he'd heard before. It was very soft and gentle. He cracked an eye open and saw that it was Alfred. Somehow, such a lovely voice came from shy Alfred. Herbert doubted Alfred would sing if he knew someone else was in the room with him. Alfred sat in the bed, the blankets up to his waist and a book on his lap. As Herbert watched, Alfred dipped his quill in the little ceramic ink well, and then brought it back to his paper. He glanced at Herbert and Herbert closed his eye to avoid being caught. He could hear the light scratching of the quill against paper. A moment later, he opened his eye, again.

Alfred was absorbed in what he was drawing. He kept singing and Herbert thought he might be able to listen to that voice forever. He waited and watched as the singing faded away to nothing and, little-by-little, Alfred's head began to nod. Minutes later he was sound asleep.

Herbert opened both eyes. He wanted to just sit there and admire Alfred, to enjoy the feeling of 'not hungry' for the first time in so long that the sensation was entirely unfamiliar and to plot how he could convince Alfred that life under the protection of Count Von Krolock was the best possible life for him.

He stepped to the edge of the bed and looked down at what Alfred had been working on. He was utterly charmed by what he saw.

"Oh, Alfred, you darling thing."

It was a portrait of Herbert asleep in the chair. Clumsy and untrained with ink smeared here and there from where Alfred hadn't been watching his hands near the wet ink. The hands of the drawing were rather bad and Herbert knew his head wasn't that big, but he still liked it. Just looking at the drawing and knowing that Alfred had put an effort into it made him feel warm all over. He was certain Alfred loved him, even if he was too afraid to admit it.

So pleased with his discovery, Herbert turned the page in the book to see what else Alfred had been amusing himself with. The image he found made him freeze with horror.

It was another drawing of Herbert. A drawing of Herbert with his mouth wide and fangs extended. His face was twisted and horrible, his eyes wide with madness.

So… that was how Alfred saw him - a monster.

There was no denying that Alfred feared him. There could be no dismissing it at shyness or inexperience, he was terrified. And he had good reason. Herbert realized that he must have looked like that when he'd gotten so impatient in his bedroom, when he'd dragged Alfred to the floor.

Herbert flipped the page back to the image of him peacefully sleeping in the chair. Alfred had drawn him with a tiny smile on his face. It was such a tender image, so vastly different than the monster Herbert trying to lunge out of the paper.

Back-and-forth Herbert flipped the page, flipped between peace and fury, between man and monster. He hadn't wanted to scare Alfred. He didn't want to scare anyone.

Koukol walked in with an armful of clean, dried clothing.

Herbert showed him the drawing of 'monster-Herbert'. "Am I so terrible? Do I really look like this?"

With a roll of his eyes, Koukol set his armful of clothes on the chair Herbert had been sitting on, took the book from Hebert and, with his free hand, gave Herbert a cuff on the side of the head.

"Hey!"

Koukol ignored Herbert's indignant squawk. He turned the page to the picture of Herbert sleeping and tapped it with his forefinger before shoving the book back into Herbert's hands.

"But he saw me like this." Herbert turned back to the 'monster-Herbert' picture.

Koukol let out a long-suffering sigh. "Young."

"Well, yes, Alfred is young, but I don't see what - "

"No," Koukol interrupted and tapped Herbert on the chest. "You. Young." He gestured at the book. "Mistake." And he waved his hand to indicate that it didn't really matter.

A drop of hope. "So, you think it was just a… a bad first impression? That could be it. If he sees me like this, now," Herbert looked down at his sleeping image. "Then there might be hope." He smiled down at Alfred, still sleeping soundly. "I'll make you forget the monster if it's the last thing I ever do!"

 **Alfred-**

The next time Alfred woke, his face was pressed into something firm. It was vaguely alarming, but he was drifting in that calm place between waking and sleeping so, for a time, he stayed as he was and enjoyed being warm and comfortable. He could hear soft talking around him and the crackle of fire. He snuggled into whatever he was laying against then opened his eyes. He saw black and realized, after a minute, that it was black cloth. Some kind of clothing. Alfred blinked and realized that he was looking at someone's trousers. He'd been snuggling with someone's thigh!

He very awake after that realization and started to pull away when a hand touched his head. Alfred looked up to find that the thigh he'd been snuggling belonged to Count Von Krolock.

The count gave Alfred a brief, amused smile and kept petting him, running those worryingly long fingernails over Alfred's scalp. Alfred laid still and quiet and the count did nothing else. The room was peaceful and warm and he felt his race heart begin to slow.

After he was able to relax a bit, Alfred realized that his bed was quite overflowing. From where he lay, he could see Sarah sitting on the other side of the count with her back against the footboard, facing the count. Her feet were bare and she'd changed out of her red ball gown into a blue dress of a far more simple design. Her long hair was braided and hung over one shoulder and she held an embroidery hoop in one hand while she stitched with the other. She frowned while she worked.

"You don't look very happy over there," Herbert's voice came from beside Alfred, too close for him to be sitting in the chair next to the bed.

Alfred turned his head away from the count and saw that Herbert sat in much the same position as his father did, but on Alfred's other side. He sat, finally fully dressed, with his legs crossed and was carefully trimming his fingernails.

"I hate sewing." Sarah wrinkled her nose as she said it. "Needlepoint is like sewing except that it's useless. There's no practical reason for it. It's just decoration."

"Seems sort of silly that you just spent the last hour sitting there working on it, then."

"It's a gift for mother. She's going to be so cross with me for running off without a word to anyone. I thought a gift might help relieve her temper a little."

"Your mother will forgive you, my dear," Count Von Krolock spoke up. "She may have a temper, but she loves you. The gift is a fine idea."

It was such a domestic moment that it was rather surreal. A vampire family just enjoying each other's company… and Alfred in the middle.

"Well," Herbert said. "I think you would like riding more than embroidery. I can teach you to ride sometime, if you like. We'll have to get you a nice riding outfit, but that shouldn't take much time at all and… Alfred!" Herbert grinned down at Alfred. "You're awake! Oh, and you look so much better." He leaned down and smacked a quick peck of a kiss on Alfred's cheek before he sat up, again. It was so fast Alfred hadn't even had time to think about dodging out of the way.

It was Alfred's first kiss. That little spot where Herbert's lips had touched him felt remarkably warm. Alfred thought of how he'd almost touched Herbert's lips earlier and blushed.

As everyone was watching him, Alfred sat up. He winced when his accidently jostled his hurt arm and Sarah leaned towards him, putting both of her hands on the count's legs to do it.

"Does it still hurt?" Sarah asked, remorsefully.

Herbert wrung his hands. "It does seem to be very swollen."

Sarah put a hand on the count's shoulder and suddenly smiled with confidence. "Mother can help him!"

Everyone turned to look at Sarah.

"She can," Sarah insisted. "Mother is the midwife in the village and she knows all about healing. She's taken care of broken bones, infections, fevers. She's very smart and if I ask..."

Herbert snorted. "You ask? You can't go!"

"Why not?"

"Because you could get hungry at any minute! Do you want to take the chance that you might try to rip her throat out like you did to Alfred?"

Sarah looked at Herbert, horrified, then she snapped at him, "You're horrible! Alfred was just… just an accident! Oh, Alfred!" She threw herself at him and hugged him. "I am sorry, really! If I was thinking straight I wouldn't have hurt you.

"It's alright."

"No, it's not!" Sarah sat back a little and then, to Alfred's shock, kissed him on the cheek, the opposite cheek Herbert had kissed. "Sweet Alfred, you're the kindest, most gentle person I've ever met. No one should ever hurt you."

As was to be expected, Alfred blushed and looked down at his lap. "Don't feel bad," he muttered. "I'm really alright. And I'll get better soon."

"Of course you will." Sarah hugged him, again, then stood up and put her fists on her hips as she looked at the count. "He'll get better when he sees my mother. She knows more about taking care of people than anyone else and whatever is wrong with Alfred's arm, she can fix it."

The count nodded and smiled fondly at Sarah. "Then we will let her try. Herbert, you will take Alfred to the village tonight. I will distract the guests with a hunt through the northern mountains. Ask Madam Chagal to care for him. She won't refuse, but be polite. And you will stay with him until I send for you."

"How long might that be?" Herbert asked, suspiciously.

"Until the guests are gone. I expect them to be gone by tomorrow night."

Herbert's eyes narrowed and he looked, for just a moment, like he might argue with his father. But he bowed his head. "Yes, father."

Alfred asked, "Will you ask Sarah's father wants to give a message to his wife?"

Everyone looked at him, puzzled.

Sarah said, "Father's in the village with mother."

"No. He's the one who…" Alfred's voice trailed off and he looked up at Count Von Krolock. "Why didn't you tell her?"

Count Von Krolock frowned at Alfred. "Tell her what?"

"That her father was bitten."

The count blinked. "What?"

"Chagal led us up here because the professor was going to stake him if he didn't. He was a vampire. I think he bit Miss Magda, too."

"Our bar maid?" Sarah looked back and forth between Alfred and the count and finally settled on the count. "Did you bite my father?"

"No. As I said, I'd never met him."

She looked at Herbert. "You?"

"Oh, don't look at me like that. Your father isn't my type, sweetie."

"But, who bit him, then? One of the guests?"

Herbert swallowed hard and looked at Alfred rather than at his father. "That," Herbert said, quietly. "Would be an extremely… rude thing to do. One does not hunt in another's territory without permission and one certainly doesn't bring others across without the permission of the master of the territory. It's bad manners."

"It's also been the cause of more than one war." Count Von Krolock scowled terribly at Alfred. "Are you absolutely certain that Sarah's father was a vampire?"

Alfred cringed against the bed's headboard. "Ah… yes? Yes, I'm sure. I wouldn't lie about it, sir. Professor Abronsius thought you'd done it."

"No. It wasn't me. And with all the guests we've had these last couple of weeks it will be difficult to track down the insulting dog who dared such a thing on my land." He pressed his lips together into a thin line as he got off the bed. He folded his hands behind his back as he began to pace the room.

Alfred brought his knees up to his chest and curled into a little ball, with the blanket drawn right up to his chin as he stared determinedly at his knees.

Sarah watched the count and, as she'd never seen him angry, she bit her bottom lip, nervously.

Herbert sighed and leaned over Alfred to poke Sarah in the ribs. She let out a squeak and turned her attention from the brooding Count Von Krolock to Herbert. Herbert stuck his tongue out at her. "Don't frown so – father isn't angry at you. He's just got a creepy face." Of course Herbert was suddenly the center of attention, which always seemed to please him. He looked at his father with mock surprise. "Why father, were you listening? Sorry, I thought you were busy scaring the children."

The comment caused the count to look at Sarah and Alfred. He hung his head. "Forgive me. This is nothing you two need to worry about."

"But we do." Sarah sat up on the bed on her knees. "He's my father! I need to know what's going on if he's involved in all this! And if there's someone who's trying to make you angry, they might be dangerous. Some of us might be in danger." She glanced at Alfred, then back at the count. "And if there are rules, I should know them, shouldn't I?"

"I hadn't meant to teach you of such things until you were a bit older."

"Father," Herbert said. "I think she may be right. Someone isn't playing by the rules." He looked at Alfred and Sarah. "They need to know what we face."

The count mulled over the idea, but finally nodded. "Very well. Sarah, you are my child by blood and all of our community who know this will know that we are connected – that you are family to me and, much as I wish it weren't so, that makes you a potential target should someone take aim against me. Alfred, even though you are not one of us by blood, you are now living under my protection and that involves you.

There are few rules regarding our people, but one of them is about territory. I am master of this territory, which includes the village below and the mountains around us. Someone has turned one, possibly two people in my territory. I have to find them and ensure that they're being cared for properly or they may be just running around killing people at random. Then I will have to find the offender and extract vengeance. This whole matter is an open slap to the face and I cannot let it stand. I will speak to Koukol and see if he's seen anyone in the castle who shouldn't be here. It's possible that he, too, thought I'd brought them across."

"There's something else to keep in mind," Herbert added. "Charlotte has some plot in mind. I told father earlier, but you two must stay away from her."

"Done," Alfred readily agreed.

Sarah blinked curiously at Herbert. "Who's Charlotte?"

Alfred clutched at the blankets on his lap. He didn't even like thinking about her. "She's… very bad."

"She's an acquaintance of father's," Herbert elaborated. "But she's hardly his match. If this was her doing, I can't think what she plans, because she can't win a challenge against him – she's no older than I am, after all. She was the one you saw me fighting with at the ball, Sarah dear. A vile, deceitful creature." Herbert sniffed, disdainfully. "And she had a terrible sense of fashion."

"For all that, she is still a guest in my home," Count Von Krolock said. "I don't know what she has planned and I don't know that she turned your father, Sarah. But she did make some comment to Herbert that he would be better off in Paris than here."

"Is that bad? I should think you would like the city," Sarah commented to Herbert. "You seem the type to like bright lights and excitement, and I have heard that big cities like Paris are all busy and bubbling with life."

"I have always liked Paris as well as Brussels, Venice, and New York as well as any number of other big cities. But this is my home. The fact that she would suggest that I leave is simply odd. She just dropped it onto the end of an encounter, like a stray thought. I don't like it," Herbert looked at his father. "And I don't trust her."

Count Von Krolock gave Herbert an approving smile. "Good." He clasped his hands in front of him as he thought for a moment, and then said, "Now, Alfred can't go to the village dressed in a nightshirt. Herbert, search though your things for something he may borrow."

"I already gave him everything that might fit and Koukol said those things are still drying after being washed. Everything else is much too big."

Sarah eagerly said, "I might not like it, but I can sew, if I have to. If I may borrow a needle and thread, I can try to fix what we find and if it's not perfect, mother won't mind."

"Alfred has a sewing kit in his bags," Herbert told them.

"Great! It probably won't matter, because as soon as you get him to mother, she'll just put him back to bed."

Alfred groaned. "But I've been sleeping for days and days!"

"Oh, you're exaggerating. It won't hurt you to get more rest." Sarah shook her finger at Alfred as she said it. Herbert closed the door behind them when they left.

It left Alfred alone in the room with Count Von Krolock and Alfred was suddenly felt very self-conscious and awkward. He felt it was a perfectly reasonable way to feel considering that the count had been planning to feed him to his guests just a few hours ago.

"You seem uneasy, Alfred."

"No, sir. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The count sighed. "Alfred, this is something we need to talk about."

Alfred's heart jumped. What had he done wrong? How angry was the count?

Count Von Krolock turned to regard him, seriously. "I said before that I was pleased with your good manners and I am, but having good manners doesn't mean you sacrifice your well-being or that you must be silent about things that make you unhappy. You are allowed to speak your mind. If you are to stay here, then you will be a member of my household. You can't be always afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. I won't have you hiding in corners from me."

Alfred floundered. He was dependent on Count Von Krolock's goodwill, just as he had been with Professor Abronsius. Alfred wanted so badly to please the count. Herbert thought the world of his father, but Alfred knew if he wanted any happiness at all, he would have to try his hardest to please the count in all things and not make mistakes and not say stupid things. The count clearly wasn't a man to tolerate fools. So, if the count wanted Alfred to say what was making him nervous, then Alfred would have to do just that.

"Please, sir, were you really going to let them kill me?" Alfred choked a bit on the words.

"No," Count Von Krolock answered, easily. "In truth, I had promised a feast to my guests and you and Professor Abronsius were convenient. Even if I hadn't had guests, you both seemed to know so much, I couldn't have just let you leave. You had to die or be brought across. It seemed sensible to allow my guests to feed and then bring you across. Don't look so horrified. You wouldn't have felt any pain. I would have made certain you slept through the worst of it and I would have supervised it all to ensure you didn't die by accident."

"So, the only reason you didn't let me die is because I'm useful to you? Because of my blood?"

"Yes. Had things been different, I would have happily brought you into my family. You are such a sweet boy and Herbert would like to have a little brother."

Alfred muttered. "I don't think he wants me as a brother."

Count Von Krolock laughed. "Vampire families are a little different. If I had made you a vampire, you would be my child as are Herbert and Sarah, but the three of you aren't siblings in the way that humans view it. You are only siblings in that you are connected to one another through me."

"I thought Sarah was going to be your wife."

"Wife?" The count laughed. "No. She isn't in love with me."

"But… she ran away to be with you."

"She ran away to accept what I could offer her. Sarah is in love with life, ironically. She wants adventure and excitement and I was able to give her the power to do that. As soon as the effect of your blood wears off, she will turn ravenous and will have to be trained how to control the hunger. When she has gained that control, I fully expect that she will start asking permission to leave so she can see the world."

"How long do you think it will be until Sarah gets hungry?"

"Very soon." Count Von Krolock gave Alfred a very serious look. "I can already feel the hunger starting to claw at me."

Count Von Krolock opened his mouth to reply when the door flew open and Herbert stepped in. He had Sarah by the hair and held her there like she was a dog on a leash. He wore a decidedly unhappy expression on his face. "She's a little hungry, father."

Sarah's face was as twisted and terrible as it had been in the sleigh when she'd first attacked Alfred. Her fangs were extended and visible in her gaping mouth as she hissed and clawed at Herbert's hand holding her. Her eyes were wide and wide enough to show the whites all around her iris'. She looked like an animal, fighting to get away from Herbert. Her eyes fell on Alfred and she started to fight all the more, but despite her terrible ferocity, Herbert had no trouble holding her in place. He held her at arm's length, but wasn't at all rough with her.

Count Von Krolock wordlessly went to them. He took hold of Sarah's head and held her face with both of his hands. Their eyes met and, like a rock, she dropped, fainting dead away. Count Von Krolock caught her and lifted her as if she were no heavier than a pillow as soon as Herbert released her hair. He left the room with Sarah sparing not a single glance behind him.

"Will she be alright?" Alfred asked Herbert.

"Oh, certainly. Father's done this many times. But for now, you and I have our marching orders. Time for you to get dressed and then off we go to the village. Don't worry; I'll help you dress. I wouldn't want you to stress that arm, after all."

 **To be continued…**


	8. Angus

**Chapter 8: Angus**

 **Alfred-**

It was only moments after Herbert had told Alfred that they would have to get down to the village that Count Von Krolock, without Sarah, returned. He dismissed Herbert to get himself prepared, then sat in the chair by the fire. Alfred didn't dare ask where Sarah was. From what Herbert had told him of his first nights as a vampire, he supposed that Sarah must be locked safely in some dark room.

"Have you decided, Alfred?"

Alfred looked up at Count Von Krolock and felt a flare of panic. He hadn't, in fact, decided whether or not he wanted to accept the count's invitation to live at the castle. He had to make a choice, but making decisions just wasn't something he was very good at.

Alfred watched from where he sat on the bed as Count Von Krolock stared at the dancing fire on the hearth. The vampire still made Alfred incredibly nervous; his thumbnail had been bitten right down to the flesh and there was nothing left to chew. Herbert's story of how he'd first met the count had help Alfred's nerves, but not erased them. Of course the count was fond of Herbert and kind to him. Herbert was pretty and clever and had gone to the count very willingly.

Alfred had almost helped Professor Abronsuis kill them. No, the count had no reason at all to show Alfred any kindness. It only proved the count's great mercy that Alfred was allowed to choose. But if he chose wrong…

"What do you want me to do, Excellency?"

The count looked at him, sharply, then chuckled. "No, Alfred. This time, YOU will make the choice."

Well… it wasn't as if he had anywhere else to go and the count did say he could change his mind later. "Then I'll stay?" He made it a question and cautiously waited the count's reaction, half-expecting him to change his mind at the last minute.

"Are you certain?"

"Ummm… yes. I think so."

Again, the count laughed. "Then consider yourself part of the family. I'll have Herbert help you to find quarters that are to your liking as soon as possible and he will be more than happy to help you start setting it up."

Quarters. He was going to have a room just for him. His own bed. Alfred's mind reeled. The count promised food and clothes and now a bed? It was like a dream. Of course, it all came at the price of his blood, but was that really any difference than the labor he'd provided for the professor in exchange for room and board? No. It was just a little scarier.

It was all a matter of accepting fate, Alfred decided. He would simply have to accept the fact that Professor Abronsius didn't want him anymore and he had a new master to serve. He just needed to figure out how the count wanted him to behave. Once he knew that, he was sure he could be good. Then his mind flashed back to that instant when he'd so boldly touched Herbert's bare knee and he wondered if it would be possible to be good. But the count didn't think there was anything wrong with Herbert liking men so he wouldn't think it was bad. Alfred wished his head would stop ringing. He was starting to get confused. So he focused on something he was more confident with than the confusing feelings within him.

He cleared his throat to get the count's attention and asked, "Excellency, may I ask what my duties will be?"

"Duties?" The count looked baffled.

"Here. What will I do for work?" He straightened his back and tried to sound more sure of himself than he really was. "I can sew and cook and I'm very good at cleaning. I'm fast, too. I used to run messages around the city for the professor. I can chop wood for the fire." When the count didn't give any signs of approval, Alfred felt his confidence wither. Still, he tried, "If I don't know how to do something, I will still try my very best. I will do what you tell me."

The count looked thoughtful for a moment before he said, "Then why don't we start with you telling me where Professor Abronsius might have gone?"

"Huh? Go? Back to Germany, I suppose."

"Yes, I have his card for that residence. Does he have another house? You met him in England, if I recall properly." He stretched his long legs out in front of him and steepled his fingers together. "Did he have a house there?"

"He rented an apartment in London. Why?"

The count gave Alfred a long look with a rather sad smile. "I must find him. If he survived the cold and predators in the mountains, I will have to find him and… prevent him from telling people about us. While it would be unlikely that anyone would believe him in this day and age, I cannot take the chance."

Alfred felt sick. "Survive… do you think he's dead?" He didn't want the professor dead. He wasn't a bad man. Then he thought of the wolves that howled every night and bit his lip, nervously.

"After we had you brought to this room and you were sleeping, Herbert went to look and found no sign of Abronsius in the area. If he were dead, there would probably have been evidence. I believe it is more likely that he lucky enough to find a passing traveler on the road who offered him a ride."

It was a relief for Alfred. "Oh, that's good. How would you stop him from talking to people, though?"

"That is nothing for you to worry about. Now for another job for you - come closer." He held out a hand towards Alfred.

Of course Alfred did as he was told and went to stand in front of Count Von Krolock and waited in silence. It was an awkward silence with the count simply regarding him with those intense eyes and Alfred trying to be patient and still but ended up twiddling his thumbs and scuffing his shoe on the floor.

"We need to deal with this, Alfred."

"Yes, sir." He had no idea what they needed to deal with, but it was in his best interest to keep the count happy, so he would agree and as soon as the count told him exactly what they needed to deal with, he would do it.

The count raised an eyebrow. "Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"No, sir." Honesty seemed easiest. The count must know Alfred wasn't very smart so he probably wouldn't mind.

"What we need to deal with is your fear." Count Von Krolock sighed and rubbed his forehead. "You are so anxious in my presence that I think you might run or faint if I should make a sudden move. You are quite peaceful while you sleep; I wish you could be so relaxed when awake. You are now a member of my household. While I can't share my blood with you as I did to make Herbert part of my family, I would have you feel safe here."

Safe? How could he feel safe when, at any minute someone was going to make a lunge for his throat? Oh, he knew it was the price he paid for being given room and board in the castle, but that didn't mean he was at ease with the idea.

"I think," Count Von Krolock continued. "That the trouble is the unknown. It is often frightening. Once you see it is nothing to fear, you will lose that stiffness to your shoulders." He looked at the fire on the hearth, then nodded to himself. "Yes. It should be sooner rather than later or we risk you worrying yourself into a fit." He stood, the sudden movement causing Alfred to inadvertently jump back a pace. The count saw it, but didn't say anything. Instead, he went to the bed and sat before he patted the bed at his left side. "Come and sit."

It took all of Alfred's courage to take those few steps to the bed and sit where he was told to.

"I'm going to bite you, now."

Alfred went cold all over, but he didn't bolt.

"Give me your hand."

The only reason Alfred was able to hold out his right hand was that it was an order and he was so very good at obeying orders. _Don't run,_ Alfred told himself, firmly. _I have to be good, have to do what he says. I have to or he won't want me here. He might get angry and he'll hurt me. I can't be useless, can't be a burden, so just obey!_ So he sat there and felt his heart quicken and tried to be so good by sitting still and letting the count do as he wished because he HAD agreed and it was as good as a promise and the count made it clear that he didn't lie and that would mean he didn't like liars and Alfred's hand was shaking fiercely. He watched his fingers jittering and he couldn't stop it. He did try.

"I'm sorry," Alfred told the count. "I can't… it won't stop."

"Just nerves, young man. Perfectly natural." Count Von Krolock's hands were gentle when he took Alfred's hand and began to draw the hand up towards his face.

"When's Herbert coming back?" The words burst out of Alfred's mouth before he could even think about it.

The count brought Alfred's wrist to his face and inhaled, as if he could smell the blood beneath Alfred's skin. "Soon. Very soon." Then, he folded Alfred's fingers until all of them were against the palm but for the index finger. That index finger, he held steady while he opened his mouth. The sight of the count's fangs made Alfred's breath catch. The count very carefully used one fang to pierce the skin of Alfred's finger. Alfred didn't even feel it. A single drop of blood welled to the surface and sat on the tip of Alfred's finger. The count admired that drop, then brought Alfred's finger to his mouth and delicately licked it off. "There." The count released Alfred's hand. "All done."

"That's… all?" Alfred stared at his hand. He felt the tight knot of anxiety in his chest loosened. He looked at the count with wide eyes.

"That's all. I did tell you that a single drop of your blood was all that was needed. You see? I don't lie." He reached up to pat Alfred's hair. "Nothing to worry about."

Slowly, a smile spread over Alfred's face. Really, it wasn't so bad. Not bad at all. He could easily keep his promise to the Count.

"Such a nice smile," the count commented. "Now, as I said, Herbert will stay with you in the village until I send for you and I expect you to stay with him. He's there to take care of you. When you come back we will discuss house rules and get you settled into your new life."

"But," Alfred said, "What about Mister Chagal? And Magda? I know Herbert said it was an insult to you that they were made into vampires without your permission, but they didn't do anything wrong, did they?"

"I will take care of the issue. Everything will be taken care of. They will be found and brought back here and I will be able to question them about what happened."

"They aren't in trouble, are they? Because I don't think they wanted this to happen and you said Sarah can't control herself because she's so young so they can't control what they do, either. I really don't think they should be punished."

"That would be like punishing an infant for their parent's wrongdoing. No, they will need education and guidance, just as Sarah does, but I must find them quickly to be sure they don't cause damage or hurt themselves. You don't need to concern yourself for them at this moment."

Herbert returned, then, with an armful of clothes for Alfred and a large white cloth. He set the clothes down on the bed, but kept the white fabric in hand. Then he faced Alfred with a determined look. "Get undressed."

"What?!"

Count Von Krolock covered his face with his hands. When he looked up he gave Herbert a disapproving look. "We talked about this, Herbert."

"I'm being good! But I can't bind his arm while he's wearing a nightshirt unless he wants to ride into the village with his knees bared to the world."

That idea didn't appeal to Alfred in the slightest. Neither did stripping off in front of both Herbert and the count. So he stood there, frozen with indecision.

Herbert sighed. "I promise to behave. But you need to get dressed and your arm needs to be bound first. I can dress you after the arm is taken care of."

"I can dress myself!"

"Really? Fine." Herbert crossed his arms over his chest. "Then put your trousers on."

It was almost impossible to do one handed, and then he couldn't fasten his braces to hold his trousers up. But in the end, he DID have his trousers on, even if they only stayed on because he held them up with his good hand. "They are on." He muttered.

"A valiant effort," Count Von Krolock stood and moved as if he would help, which Alfred wouldn't have fought, but then he stopped. "You need to trust Herbert as well as myself, Alfred. Allow Herbert to help you."

It was an order.

Dismayed, Alfred did as he was told. It was awkward, but Herbert was fast and he kept his word. His hands didn't stray even once. He did pause when removing the nightshirt and frowned. It was entirely off Alfred but for the hurt arm. "I'm afraid it will hurt if I just take it off."

"It's alright," Alfred reassured him. "I can take it." The pain wasn't pleasant, but he had suffered much worse.

"I'm sure you can." But Herbert reached under his jacket to his belt and pulled out a concealed dagger. It was quite long, almost ten inches, and but very plain. "From my days in the military," Herbert commented when he saw Alfred looking. He used the knife to careful cut through the nightshirt's sleeve and free Alfred's arm with minimal movement. "Pity, I rather liked that nightshirt." Then he tossed it aside and focused his attention on the white fabric which he fashioned into a sling for Alfred's arm. "Does it hurt?"

"It's not that bad."

"Your definition of 'bad' and mine seem to be rather different."

"It didn't hurt so much before the crash."

"Was it hurt before?" Herbert spent a little more time fiddling with the sling. He put his arms over Alfred's shoulders to do something with the knot in the sling that sat at the back of Alfred's neck. He was so close that Alfred could smell some kind of flowery perfume Herbert was wearing. And wasn't it odd to see Herbert dressed so… so sensibly? He still dressed in clothes that were far nicer than anything Alfred was ever likely to wear, but they were far simpler than the fashions Alfred had seen Herbert wearing. Even the tall riding boots were a far cry from the dainty little shoes he'd worn before.

"I fell," Alfred answered. "In the hall. Charlotte…ah… surprised me."

Herbert snorted and retrieved a shirt for Alfred. "Surprised you? I'm sure she did. That one is all kinds of fun, isn't she, father?"

"I'm dealing with it, Herbert." The count's warning tone offered no room for further discussion.

"I suppose the crash couldn't help but worsen the injury." Herbert helped Alfred slip his good arm into the shirt sleeve, but then drew the rest of the shirt around Alfred and buttoned it up over the injured arm. "You can't use it, anyway," Herbert explained. "May as well keep it warm." He then moved help Alfred with shoes. "He's going to need boots, father, or he'll be trapped inside all winter." Then he produced Alfred's cap. "A warmer hat would be a good idea, too." The green mittens were a welcome sight, but Alfred could only wear one of them as his injured arm was hidden under a couple of layers by that time. Herbert frowned at the remaining mitten. "I should have put it on you earlier. Ah, well." Finally, there was Alfred's red coat. Alfred felt quite warm, but Herbert wasn't satisfied and produced his final item - a cloak. "It's mine and far too big for you," Herbert said as he draped it over Alfred's shoulder and fastened it at the neck with what looked very much like a golden clasp. "But it's all we have. I think really must get you to a tailor."

"And I think," Count Von Krolock said. "That you are both ready. Best be off before it gets much later. Be safe."

The stables, once Herbert had snuck Alfred down to them, were quite large and Alfred could hear noises from the horses within.

Herbert strode in without any hesitation and led Alfred to a stall housing a beast. The horse was huge. It was pure white and stood a good deal taller than Herbert. It stomped the ground, kicking up hay and earth. Great puffs of mist jetted out of its nostrils when it snorted in the cold air. It paced back and forth in its stall, as if it was trying to find an escape, and its dark eyes regarded Alfred as if he were a hated enemy that needed to be destroyed.

"His name is Buttercup," Herbert proudly said, gazing up at the horse with genuine affection. "Father gave him to me when he was just a foal and I've had him ever since. Isn't he beautiful?"

Alfred had no words.

Without hesitation, Herbert climbed over the door of the stall and jumped to the ground. Alfred sincerely doubted the wisdom of getting to close to the beast, but the moment Herbert got close to him, Buttercup instantly calmed. He nuzzled Herbert and chewed on the end of his hair. Rather than getting upset, as Alfred thought he might, Herbert chuckled and hugged Buttercup around the neck.

For just a moment, Alfred thought he might have misjudged the horse's temperament, but when Buttercup looked over Herbert's shoulder at Alfred, his eyes got a decidedly evil glint in them.

"Herbert?"

"Yes, darling?"

"I think your horse wants to kill me."

It made Herbert laugh and Alfred found he rather liked the sound. "Oh, don't you worry about him! Buttercup is as mild as a lamb."

Buttercup still glared when Herbert wasn't looking at him.

Herbert quickly and efficiently saddled his horse, going about the job with an ease that bespoke years of practice. When done, he opened the stall door and led him out. Alfred kept well out of Buttercup's way. Herbert didn't both to tie Buttercup to the hitching post, but simply let him stand while he turned to face Alfred. "When your arm is healed, I'll get you a horse of your own and we can go riding when the moon is bright enough for you to see."

"I don't know how to ride." He'd always lived in cities; there had never been a need to ride.

"Then it's a good time to learn. However, with your arm as it is, I'm afraid that it would be much too dangerous to try now, especially on a horse that doesn't know you, in the snow, and at night. So for now, you'll ride double with me. Buttercup is quite strong enough to bear the both of us. Would you prefer to ride in front or behind?"

Riding in front of Herbert meant jostling up and down with every stride the horse took, close enough to touch… to bite. Alfred went very warm and butterflies flitted about in his stomach. In front sounded nice and, yet, rather terrifying.

Herbert didn't wait for an answer. He tapped his chin with a finger, then said, rather regretfully, "Behind, I think. Yes, definitely for the best if you ride behind. Just make sure you hold on tightly." Herbert gracefully got himself seated in his saddle, then reached a hand down. "Give me your good hand and I'll pull you up."

Alfred did as he was told and it was no apparent effort at all for Herbert to lift him right up off his feet. Alfred scrambled to get his leg over Buttercup's back. Once seated, he had to put his good arm around Herbert and held on tightly because Herbert gave a command to Buttercup and they were off.

They were, perhaps, a little more than half way to the village when Herbert yanked on Buttercup's reins and drew the horse to a halt. He stared into the distance and looked puzzled. "A horse?" It was some distance off, walking through the trees at a relaxed pace.

Then, a snowball struck Herbert on the side of the head. He was so surprised that he nearly fell off Buttercup. "What-?!"

A burst of laughter from the right made both Alfred and Herbert turn to look. There was a man sitting on a low-hanging tree branch. He had one hand on his stomach as he laughed.

"Angus!" Herbert shouted, furiously.

The man laughed even harder at that, so hard that he leaned too far backwards and fell off the branch and landed on his back in the snow. He was still laughing when he got to his feet and dusted himself off. Managing to finally control himself, the man shook a finger at Herbert. "Someone needs to pay more attention to his surroundings! That could have easily been a wooden arrow to the heart rather than a snowball to the head."

He looked a bit older than Herbert, but not by much. He wasn't a big man, not at tall or as broad as either the count or Herbert, but still bigger than Alfred. His curly hair was black as coal and short enough that it only reached his collar. His eyes were bright blue, like the sky on a clear winter's day. He was also just as pale as the count and Herbert.

The stranger gave a shrill whistle and the horse they'd seen in the distances came trotted towards them obediently. It was splendid horse, just like Buttercup, but it was all black except for a palm-size spot of white between its eyes. That horse was just as big as Herbert's Buttercup, but seemed calmer and the two horses gave each other a nuzzle when they were close enough.

"There's my lovely Heather." The stranger, Angus, gave his horse a fond pat on the flank before he moved to stand next to Buttercup and looked up at Herbert. "Good to see you, Bertie, but you've got to get your head out of the clouds. You're going to get yourself killed out here if you can't pay attention just because you've got a bonnie laddie holding you."

Alfred blushed and let his arm drop away from Herbert, suddenly willing to let himself fall off Buttercup if it meant he didn't get laughed at.

"Don't call me 'Bertie'!"

Angus grinned, wickedly. Quick as lightening, he grabbed Hebert by the wrist and gave him a yank, pulling Herbert off Buttercup. Buttercup snorted in annoyance, but didn't seem unduly surprised.

Shocked by the whole thing, Alfred just watched from where he sat as Herbert and Angus wrestled in the snow. He feared that an all-out brawl might break out because Herbert surely wasn't one to take such treatment. The scene from the ball with Charlotte was too fresh in his memory. It wasn't the vicious, murderous fight like it had been with Charlotte, though. The two men just struggled with one another, rolling around on the ground until Herbert was on his back and Angus sat on his chest, pinning his arms to the ground.

Furious, Herbert snapped his fangs at Angus. "Get off!"

Alfred kicked at Angus. "Stop it, you'll hurt him! Leave him alone!"

With an easy move, Angus dodged the kick and looked up at Alfred with interest. "Ah! A new friend! Lovely." He jumped to his feet, then pulled Herbert to his feet and helped dust the snow off him. "And who might your stalwart champion be, Bertie? Won't you introduce us?"

Herbert, still with a sour grimace batted Angus' hands away from him. "This is Alfred. Alfred, this Scottish brute is Viscount Angus Von Krolock – my big brother."

Alfred stared and felt very foolish for trying to kick him. "Oh. Sorry."

"No!" Angus' cheery smile didn't fade a bit. "It's good to know my little brother has someone willing to stand up for him. Very nice to meet you, Alfred. I didn't expect to see you out here, Bertie. Shouldn't you be attending the guests with father? He did say it was his turn to host this year. I thought I might get to the castle without being spied and give everyone a surprise."

"Well, I won't tell father you're coming, so you can surprise him. I have to be going."

"You're going? I did bring presents."

Herbert lit up. "Presents? From where?"

"Madrid." He then added, in a teasing voice, "I had an artist make up a book of the latest fashions. I might even have a few fabric samples."

Herbert did look tempted, but he shook his head. "I can't. I'm on a mission."

"How very responsible of you." The other man suddenly reached out, slapped his hand on the top of Herbert's head and ruffled up his hair. "My adorable little brother."

Herbert squawked and tried to defend his hair. "Are you trying to humiliate me?!"

"Yes. Of course I am. What good is a little brother if not to take a little embarrassment? Now, come sit by the fire and have a rest. You," Angus looked up at Alfred. "Look like you could do with a bit of warming up even though," he took the hem of the cloak Alfred was wrapped in and brought it up to his nose and took a deep sniff. "Even though thoughtful little Bertie has lent you his cloak." He reached up as if he would help Alfred to the ground, but stopped when Herbert, with an ugly scowl for him, shoved him.

A long moment when the two stared at one another, Herbert glaring and Angus trying hard not to laugh, before Alfred swung his leg over Buttercup's back and slid down the ground as carefully as he could.

"See?" Herbert sniffed at his brother. "He doesn't need help."

"Well, of course he doesn't. A fine sturdy laddie, you are, too." He smiled at Alfred and put arm over Alfred's shoulders. "Not my preference, really, but I'm sure you taste as sweet as any lassie. You're planning to share, aren't you, Bertie."

"No! No sharing, no biting, no anything. Father will explain when you see him, but Alfred is off limits."

Angus asked no more questions, but took his arm off Alfred and reiterated his invitation.

They joined Angus at his fire, which had only been just a short distance away from the road they'd been traveling on. As they followed Angus with Herbert leading Buttercup, Herbert whispered to Alfred, "He's mostly harmless. He only acts like that because he knows it bothers me."

The fire was a few dying coals that Angus quickly built back up with a few sticks. With the fire crackling away merrily, Angus turned his attention to Alfred. "Alfred, was it? I can suppose that Bertie went and swept you off your feet?"

"You leave him alone, Angus!" Herbert snapped.

"I'm just being friendly, Bertie! If he's going to be around quite often, we should get to know each other." He looked back at Alfred with a wicked glint in his eyes and sly smile that revealed his fangs. "What do you say, laddie? Should we be friends? I can tell you all sorts of funny stories about Bertie and, when that arm of yours is feeling better, I'll take you out wenching."

Herbert let out a strangled, outraged noise that was something between a scream and a growl.

With a delighted expression on his face that Alfred strongly suspected was more from the upset he was causing Herbert than the idea of going wenching, Angus eagerly leaned towards Alfred. "I'll even buy the drinks. We'll drink too much ale, sing dirty songs, and find a couple of fat-bottomed lassies to sit on our knees."

Entirely over his head with the whole situation, Alfred started to shake his head. "I don't drink…"

"And he doesn't sing dirty songs or pester girls, you utter letch!" If vampires could blush, Herbert would surely be red as a tomato.

Angus found the whole thing hilarious and nearly fell over laughing at Herbert. "I feel so unloved. Don't you worry, Alfred. You and I will get better acquainted later. You'll have to hear some stories about Bertie, too. You know," Viscount Angus leaned over and whispered to Alfred. "He tries to play at being so sophisticated, but I still remember when he was a nothing more than a foolish little fledgling. One day, Bertie got his hands on a drunkard. He drank so much from that poor man that HE got drunk, too, came stumbling back the castle and fell right in the moat."

"Shut up, Angus! I was only twenty-nine!"

"I had to pull leeches out of his hair."

"I'm going to kill you!"

"No, you won't." Angus leaned over, put his hand on the back of Herbert's neck and pulled him just close enough to give him a quick kiss on the forehead. "My sweet brother is too kind for such nonsense. So, tell me – anything interesting happen at the ball this year?"

Herbert shifted a little closer to Alfred and seemed to calm down with the change of subject. He hesitated before answering and said, "I don't think father would object to you getting to the castle as soon as you possibly can."

All at once, Angus turned serious. His face went still as stone. "Something wrong at home?"

After he cast a suspiciously meaningful look at Alfred which made Angus narrow his eyes, Herbert told him everything from Professor Abronsius' invasion of their home to Charlotte's mysterious behavior and the fact that two humans from the village had been brought across without the count's permission and were, it seemed, wandering around somewhere in the mountains.

"So," Angus looked into the fire. "Charlotte attacked your human, suggested that you'd be better off somewhere far away, then publicly challenged you at the ball, and only backed down when father intervened. Then you find out father's villagers were attacked. How very curious. I'll have to investigate a bit. I saw her before I left the country, you know."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I ran into her and her sire. It was only a few minutes, but I seem to recall that she was friendly. Almost too friendly."

"A girl was too friendly? I never thought I'd hear that from you," Herbert teased.

Angus stayed silent. At last, he stood and started to toss handfuls of snow onto the fire until it was completely extinguished. "I've kept you two long enough. Best get to the village before the night starts to fade. Don't you worry about a thing, I'll deal with Charlotte." Then he leered. "Give that Rebecca Chagal my very warmest regards. Tell her Angus is thinking of her and will be by soon to visit."

Herbert grimaced. "You didn't…?"

"I certainly did. THAT is a real woman!"

"But she's married," Alfred protested.

"And her husband runs around chasing anyone with breasts who isn't his wife. I see no reason she shouldn't have a bit of fun with a man who knows how to appreciate a woman of her calibre. Be safe, you two. See you in a bit, Bertie!"

Herbert demanded, "Stop calling me 'Bertie'!"

"But, Bertie, it suits you."

Angus easily ignored Herbert's outrage. "Off you two go and stay safe. I'll come for you soon."

Later, as they approached the village, Alfred worried at how quiet Herbert had been since they'd left Angus. He didn't want Herbert to be in a sour mood. In an attempt to cheer him up, he tugged on the back of Herbert's coat to get his attention and said, "I like 'Herbert' better than 'Bertie', too."

Herbert stiffened, but still said nothing, and Alfred wished he could see Herbert's face to know if he'd helped or only upset Herbert more.

 **To be continued…**


	9. Mama

**Chapter 9: Mama**

 **Herbert-**

As they rode on, Herbert seethed furiously. He had never been so embarrassed in his life! Why had Angus had to show up at just that moment to make him look like a fool in front of Alfred? How would he ever gain Alfred's trust if Alfred thought he was nothing more than an idiot who couldn't even earn his own brother's respect?

"I like 'Herbert' better than 'Bertie', too."

Herbert was so caught up in his thoughts that he'd almost missed Alfred whispered voice.

Herbert went warm all over. The hunger for blood – for Alfred's blood - plagued him. He could feel his fangs itching to extend, but ruthlessly fought the urge. He wouldn't give Alfred any reason to fear him. He would prove he was trustworthy. He vowed to himself that he wouldn't take even a single sip of Alfred's blood until Alfred trusted him completely. So he waited quite a while until he had the hunger under control, for it wasn't easy as Alfred was sitting so close and being so naturally cute, before he said,

"Thank you, cheri. I prefer it, too. Angus does like to tease."

"Ummm… he's a vampire, too, isn't he? I saw his… ah… fangs."

"Yes. As I said, father found him in Scotland some years ago."

"You don't like him? I thought he was going to hurt you when he pulled you off the horse."

Herbert winced and regretted that Alfred had such an impression. Angus was all that was good – he was intelligent, brave, and amiable. He'd welcomed Herbert into their small family with nothing but good-cheer and warm wishes. "No. I do love him, very much. Since father brought me into his family, Angus has always been a good big brother. He's just… annoying." He was especially annoying when Herbert really was trying to be mature and sensible. It didn't happen often, so Herbert wasn't very good at it, but he WAS trying for Alfred's sake.

With that in mind and the knowledge that he had absolutely nothing to fear in the way of Angus trying to steal Alfred away – the man was entirely too fond of women – Herbert's mood improve at once. He was positively cheery when the village came into sight.

It was quite late when they reached the village, approaching dawn. There were no lights in any of the houses and the inn, the biggest building in the village, was simple to find. It hadn't changed in the many years since Herbert had last been there; Sarah had been a babe in her mother arms, if he remembered correctly. But the village was the same. One house had been painted, another had what looked like a new door. Those were the only two changes he saw.

"We don't hunt the villagers," Herbert told Alfred, quietly. "This is father's village and he won't have his people hurt, even by us." That was a hard and fast rule and Herbert's father wasn't hesitant to enforce that rule, either. He'd once caned Herbert for daring to look for food in the village. "When father was human," Herbert explained. "He was lord of this land. His family had ruled for a great many generations. The fact that he's not exactly human anymore hasn't changed his responsibilities."

Alfred didn't reply.

Herbert brought Buttercup down the single road that ran down the middle of the village, a dirt path more than a road, really, and then guided him to the back of the inn where the stables were. It was quiet and empty. The village had so few visitors that the stables were rarely used and he was confident that the stables would be empty. Imagine his surprise when they arrived to find two tired-looking horses already in the stables.

Considering how little the stables were normally used, there was no stable boy to see to Buttercup's comfort – not that Herbert would have trusted his care with anyone but himself – so Herbert took time, after helping Alfred down to the ground, to set out clean bedding, food, and fresh water for Buttercup. He found a brush and gave Buttercup a thorough going over.

Once satisfied, he put a hand on Alfred's shoulder. "Let's go in, shall we? Father keeps a room here and I'm sure we'll be able to use it."

Alfred didn't smile and still didn't speak. Instead, he kept his eyes downcast and was touching his lips with his thumb.

"Alfred, dear?" Herbert put his arm over Alfred's shoulder and pulled him in close to his side. "What's wrong? I can tell something's bothering you."

When he looked up, Alfred's eyes were troubled. "Do you think your brother is very angry with me?"

The notion that Angus could be angry with someone like Alfred was almost laughable. It took a truly terrible person to upset Angus' good-humor. "Why would he be?"

"I DID try to kick him."

The memory made Herbert grin and he didn't bother to hide it. Oh, he'd been so cross when Angus had pinned him to the ground. He had never been able to pin Angus, no matter what he tried! But there he was, again, on his back in the snow, with Angus smirking down at him when Alfred – ALFRED! – had lashed out in Herbert's defense! Timid, gentle Alfred had tried very hard to kick Angus right in the head. "Yes," Herbert cuddled Alfred a little closer. "You were so gallant! Just like a hero out of a storybook! My hero."

Alfred squirmed. "But… I forgot, too."

"Forgot what?"

"Manners!" Alfred's eyes were wide when he said it and the expression on his face gave the impression that he truly thought he'd committed some grievous crime. "I didn't call him by his title. And… and I looked right at him. And I yelled at him."

It was all terribly amusing and Herbert delighted in the fact that he had something to tease Angus about. Just wait until he told Angus that Alfred thought he was a stuffy lord and was afraid of offending him. "Alfred, Angus hates being treated like a nobleman. He was a warrior before he met father and has no use for titles. He probably didn't notice any lack of manners. Besides," Herbert tilted his chin up a little and strode to the front of the inn. "You yelled at him for me. So sweet."

By then, they'd reached the front door. It was locked, of course. There was no need for stealth though. Herbert rapped hard on the door, waited a moment, and then rapped, again. Soon, he heard the heavy thumps of the innkeeper walking down the stairs.

She opened door only wide enough to peek out and when she saw Herbert her eyes widened. The door slammed shut, but only long enough for Herbert to hear the lock being undone and then it was thrown open all the way.

Madam Chagal was middle-aged and plump. She wore a faded nightdress and a blanket draped around her. But in her tired face, Herbert could see Sarah – brown eyes and curls, the slant of a cheek bone, and the aura of strength. She had been a beautiful girl, once, and, even now, he could honestly judge her to still be a very handsome woman. Yes, if he'd been so inclined in that direction, he could understand what Angus saw in the impressive Madam Chagal.

"Lord Herbert."

Herbert gave a little bow. "Good evening, Madam Chagal. I apologize for the late hour, but I'm afraid we're going to have to beg for your hospitality."

Her face was still and hard. Her body nearly filled the doorway. She crossed her arms over her ample chest and narrowed her eyes. "Where is my daughter?"

Herbert felt the sudden, unexpected urge to apologize. He hadn't felt like that since…. since he'd been a child caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. He gave her his most charming smile. "Safe. Perfectly safe." He paused then, remembering the misapprehension Alfred had been under when he'd come to the castle, added, "Father didn't kidnap her, you know. He gave an invitation and she accepted. That she chose not to tell you before she left was, I'm sure, a simple oversight on her part, but she would be very happy to see you as soon as possible. I swear to you, she went to the castle of her own free will."

Madam Chagal rolled her eyes at him. "Do you think me a fool, little boy?"

Herbert blinked at being called a 'little boy'.

"I know my daughter better than anyone else knows her," Madam Chagal continued. "She is a stubborn, willful child and when she sets her mind to something there is no persuading her otherwise. If she hadn't wanted to go to that castle, no force on Earth would have moved her one step towards it, not even his most respected Excellency." She shook her head. "That girl of mine has been itching to be away from here a good long while, now. That his Excellency showed an interest in her no doubt delighted her. I can't even say she didn't know what to expect; her father and I were always honest about the protection we live under in this village. She knew what your father is and knew what to expect once she reached the castle. I know well enough that no one forced her to do anything. But she is well?"

"Yes... sort of. She's quite alright and while she is eager to see you, it's just not a good idea, quite yet. But Sarah is the one who suggested we talk to you. She said that you're a doctor for this village."

It surprised Madam Chagal out of her defensive attitude. She gave a short, barked laugh. "Hardly a doctor, but I do what I can. Why would one of your kind need a doctor?"

"Oh, not us. My friend has hurt his arm and I'm afraid that as my father and I have no need for doctors we're not certain how to help him. I believe you met my friend – Alfred." He suddenly realized Alfred wasn't standing next to him. "Alfred?" He found Alfred standing behind him, silently looking at his feet. Likely another strange rule Abronsius had trained Alfred to obey. Herbert stepped aside and put a hand on Alfred's back. "My friend hurt his arm."

"Ah!" She smiled for the first time, beaming at Alfred. "Sweet boy! I was so worried when I'd heard you went up the mountain in this awful weather! It's good to see you whole, sweetie. You two come in, but…" she paused and looked over her shoulder into the darkness of the inn. Then she leaned forward a little and lowered her voice to a whisper. "We have guests, so be on your guard."

"Of course. I saw the horses in your stables."

Madam Chagal wrinkled her nose and sniffed. "Good enough beasts, but the men… ugh. A more rough, unpleasant bunch I've never met!"

"Is father's room available?"

"Of course."

The inn reeked of garlic and Herbert had to take a moment to get accustomed to the smell before he could walk in.

 **Alfred-**

"I can remove it for you, if you like," Madam Chagal offered. She gestured around the common room to all the long braids of garlic that hung everywhere.

"No," Herbert shook his head. "Best to leave it up for now."

"His Excellency's guests are still around, then?"

"Yes. Father did say to keep up the garlic and other precautions until he gave the word that the danger was over, so it would be best to do so."

They sat down in the empty common room at a table with Alfred the center of attention. Alfred gingerly lay his injured arm on the table and allowed Madam Chagal to examine it.

"Broken," she declared.

Alfred groaned. "Are you sure?"

"I've seen more broken bones in my time than I can tell you. Yes, I'm sure."

Alfred had never had a broken bone, but it did explain why it kept hurting. "What should I do, ma'am?"

"You? You'll sit right there. My lord?" She looked at Herbert. "You'll have to hold him steady. Hold his upper arm as still as you can, I've got to set the bone." She left the table and strode off the kitchen and returned a moment later with a large pitcher of frothy beer and a mug. At the table, as she sat opposite of Alfred, she filled the mug with beer and set it in front of Alfred. "Drink that down."

Alfred started to shake his head, but Herbert lightly touched his shoulder. "Alfred, dearie, drink the beer. I know you don't like it, but having a bone set isn't fun. You'll be better off a little tipsy for this. I wish I'd thought to get that medicine from father before we left the castle so you could sleep through this. Before I met father, I'd gotten myself a broken leg and I didn't have the luxury of wooly brain when that bone was set. I thought I'd die from the pain. Drink your beer."

Alfred had heard of getting bones set, but had been lucky enough that he'd never gone through it. He had heard it was bad and with Herbert watching him so seriously… better safe than sorry. Alfred picked up the mug and with several large swallows he downed the foul brew. It was horrible. At once, his head spun wildly. It took effect so quickly that he swayed in his seat. He felt awful, his stomach rolled and he just knew he'd have a headache, later. He wanted a glass of water to wash the nasty taste out of his mouth. Instead, Madam Chagal refilled the mug and told him to drink, again. He was so woozy that he couldn't finish the second mug.

Herbert took hold of Alfred's arm and Alfred smiled up at him. But then there was a terrible, wrenching pain in his arm and he looked up at Madam Chagal. His lip wobbled.

"Don't fuss, now. It's over and done, now." Madam Chagal briskly stood up and came around to stand next to Alfred where she, without a bit of hesitation, hugged him. It was more than a bit awkward. Given that as Alfred was sitting, it meant that she pressed his head against her breast. "You sit quietly and try not to move the arm." She gave him a gentle smile, then moved her chair to sit right next to him. She splint the arm with two pieces of smooth wood and, ignoring Alfred's unhappy moans, used a long bandage to bind the whole thing, before she put the arm back into the sling Herbert had made, earlier.

Alfred frowned down at his arm, wiggling his fingers a little, then up at Madam Chagal. "Hurts."

"Do you want more beer, then?"

Alfred made a face. "No. Yuck." Slowly, he slouched down and ended up with his head resting on the table. "Can I sleep here, Madam Chagal?"

"Of course you can." She smiled at him and it took years off her. "My daughter has decided it's time for her to go. A son would be welcome. You call me Mama Rebecca."

"Yes, Mama Rebecca." He was so tired, but not tired enough that he didn't grow warm at the title. It was so… affectionate. He hadn't had a mama in so very long and, really, she was Sarah's mama. What if Sarah was angry with him for sharing her mama? He didn't want Sarah angry with him. He was nearly ready to fall asleep right at the table, but Herbert was saying something and Alfred didn't want to miss it.

"It was a bad crash. When we got there, the whole sleigh was a ruin. I don't even think Koukol's skills will be able to fix it. At least the horses were unharmed. Those are pure-breds, you know. Father's very fond of them. If he gets his hands on that Abronsius, I don't think anyone will want to see what remains. I wanted to give one to Alfred – he really must learn to ride – but father said something small and docile will be best."

"And he's right," Mama Rebecca said, firmly. "Do you see this boy charging about on one of those great things? Certainly not. I'll ask around the village and see if anyone's got anything suitable. What happened to Professor Abronsius?"

"Oh, that one ran off," Herbert said, dismissively. "I suppose father will tell me to fetch him back soon enough; it's just been a little busy. He might be dead, already, frozen stiff. And not the pleasant sort of stiff, if you get my meaning."

She must have, because she laughed and shook her head. "You're a card, my lord!" Mama Rebecca took the mug she'd given Alfred and drank down the last few drops. "Well, good riddance to him. That man was a shady character. I didn't care for him a bit, not from the moment he opened his mouth! Do you know, he came creeping into my bedroom when I was alone one night!"

"Did he hurt you?"

"No. I clobbered him. He won't try that any time soon!"

"Good." Herbert wrinkled his nose. "I can't say I'm horribly surprised; I knew there was something wrong with him the moment I set eyes on him. You should have seen what he did to our Alfred! As you said – a shady character."

She gave a little hum, but looked at Herbert expectantly. "Now, why don't you give me the whole story of what happened to the boy? What did that man do to him?"

Alfred dozed while Herbert spoke. He drifted in and out of sleep, lazy and relaxed with the beer and the sound of Herbert's voice.

Herbert was saying, "…it was entirely an accident. Sarah was just a bit hungry. You see, Alfred took a bit of a fall and landed badly on his right arm. Then there was a tiny misunderstanding when he thought Sarah was in danger so he tried to help her, he is such a kind-hearted lad. But that horrid Abronsius spirited them both away from the castle and then took fright at absolutely nothing and managed to crash the sleigh. No, don't get upset. Sarah is fine. She's strong and one little crash won't hurt her a bit. The trouble is that Alfred got his head a little rattled in the crash and was dazed. He's got a lump on his head. Sarah… well… she's just a baby and can't control herself. She was only hungry and in her defense, Alfred was just laying there and bleeding; he must have looked so tempting. I know I was tempted."

"My Sarah tried to kill that boy? Are you insane?" Even as she spoke, Mama Rebecca pulled back the bandage on Alfred's head to look at the bump.

"She didn't TRY to kill him. As I said, she was just hungry and at such a very young age, my dear little sister just doesn't have the control to stop herself. It's like expecting a newborn baby mortal to not cry when they're hungry – it's just not possible."

"I'll have to take your word for it." Mama Rebecca put the bandage back in place. "It is nasty lump, but seems to be healing well."

Alfred roused a little at the sound of chairs scraping lightly across the floor and got to his feet when urged to. "Time for bed, cheri." Herbert had Alfred on his feet, but the world swayed around him and Alfred squirmed away from Herbert to get back to his nice chair. Herbert caught him, though, and Alfred found himself laughing at how clever Herbert was to do such a thing. "Goodness, you are a silly drunk, aren't you? Down the steps, no, don't sit down, yet. A few more steps to go."

Just as he had in the count's room when the count had given him the lovely medicine to stop the pain in his back, Alfred allowed Herbert to lead him and he found he didn't much care where they went. They were going down, following a light held by Mama Rebecca. Alfred smiled and put his weight against Herbert while he watched Mama Rebecca's back. He could hardly remember his own mama. Surely, Sarah wouldn't mind sharing all that much. He wondered if he would ever have the courage to ask Mama Rebecca for a hug. He hadn't had a hug in such a long time.

"This is father's room," Herbert said when they finally reached the bottom of the stairs. It was a spartan room with little in it but a few chairs, a small table, and a coffin in the center of the room. "No sunlight can get in here, so it's perfectly safe to stay for the day and get some rest. From the look of, you'll need all the sleep you can get. Now, do you think you can get in or should I help?" Herbert gestured to the coffin.

Alfred swung his head around to look up at Herbert with wide eyes. "Am I a vampire?"

"No, dear. We can't do that. Remember? But this is father's room and it's the safest place for you to stay. Don't think of it as a coffin. Think of it as… ah… a bed with a lid! Yes, that's right. It's just a lid to keep you safe."

It seemed to make sense, so Alfred agreeably nodded and started to clumsily climb into the coffin. Then he stopped and looked up at Herbert. "But… you? Where you gonna sleep?"

"Don't worry, I can take care of myself."

"Oh… right." But he didn't get in the coffin. "Can I sleep on the floor?"

Herbert blinked. "If you want to. But why?"

"If I'm in a coffin, you'll think I'm dead and forget me. Don't wanna be forgetted."

"I promise – I'll never forget you."

But Alfred still found a corner to sit in and gingerly started to lower himself to the floor before Mama Rebecca burst out, "Of all the foolishness! No reason to sleep on the floor." She pushed by Herbert and stopped Alfred from sitting on the floor. "There's a perfectly good chair right here. Yes, sit there." Once he was sitting, she covered him, again, with Herbert's cloak.

Alfred realized that he seemed to be using Herbert's cloak an awful lot.

Alfred yawned and tugged the cloak closer to his chin and closed his eyes, listening to the soft voices of Mama Rebecca and Herbert, but his addled mind had a hard time understanding.

"Tell me about these strangers," Herbert sat, leaning against a wall.

"There's two of them. I don't see as they've any real business in the village. They just arrived, rented rooms and look around. They don't buy or sell anything. My lord," she seemed to struggle to find the right words. "No one just visits here. We're in the middle of nowhere, in the mountains, in the dead of winter… no one just wanders through." She cast a look at Alfred. "I think his professor got lost wherever he was really going and they just stumbled upon us by chance."

Herbert looked up and stared at the ceiling for a time. "I would very much like to investigate, but And it's going to be dawn very shortly. I can't leave Alfred alone, not yet."

That made Alfred feel rather pleasantly warm. Maybe he'd get a hug from Herbert, too.

A shout from the top of the stairs drew everyone's attention. "Hey! Hey, barkeep! Get us a drink!"

Mama Rebecca scowled and bunched up handfuls of her dressing gown with her fists. "That's one of the louts. Always shouting about something! And now ordering me about my own home!"

Alfred looked up to the top of the stairs. He didn't like the man who was upsetting Mama Rebecca.

"Herbert?"

"Yes, cheri?"

"Make him go away."

Herbert laughed, indulgently. "It would be a pleasure."

There was pounding on the door at the top of the stairs, then it was flung open and a man, skinny as a beanpole with wart on his nose came stomping down the stairs. "Been looking for you, barkeep!" He opened his mouth to say more before his eyes went from Mama Rebecca to Herbert, then to Alfred. He froze in mid-step, then started to grin. "We was wondering if you kept some pleasant company for rent. Seems you hide them in the cellar, here."

Mama Rebecca's face turned red and she looked angry enough to start cursing at the man.

"No girls?" The stranger stomped down the stairs and stopped on the bottom step. "Heard someone talking about a pretty girl that lives here; I'd pay a coin or two to get her skirts up to her hips!" He laughed and scratched at his armpit.

Alfred's head was still foggy, but he knew that was a bad thing.

Mama Rebecca growled, "That girl is my daughter and is certainly NOT for rent!"

"But there may be other willing company around."

Mama Rebecca whirled around and gaped at Herbert. Alfred, too, frowned. There was something not right about this.

The stranger waved Herbert off. "If I'm going to keep company with a man, I'd rather it be the little one." He gestured towards Alfred.

Alfred cringed and pulled Herbert's cloak up to his nose. He didn't want to keep company. He wanted a nap.

"That little one," Herbert sounded like he was trying not to growl. "Isn't feeling very well and wouldn't be good company for you. However, I am very good company. I am also experienced, creative, and very, very flexible."

The stranger stared at Herbert and slowly smirked. "Is that so?"

"That is so." Herbert looked at Mama Rebecca. "Might you be so kind as to bring us something to drink?"

"Of course."

Alfred watched as Herbert and the man sat at the little table not too far from where he sat and Mama Rebecca brought down a few bottles of alcohol and mugs. She left them on the table, then went back upstairs.

As the two men spoke of things Alfred didn't really understand, he tried to organize his thoughts. Everything seemed very confusing. Herbert thought the count was going to hurt Professor Abronsius? No. That wasn't right. The count was just concerned – he'd even asked Alfred where to find the professor. And the stranger wanted to keep him company? He had a feeling that meant something, but he couldn't tell what. Strangest of all was Herbert… what did being flexible have to do with anything?

Alfred tried to think, but it felt like his head was filled with cotton. Or bubbles. Or frogs. It made him giggle. Frogs in his head. That made him think of fish in his head and he wondered what kind of fish would swim in peoples' heads and decided that he wanted starfish in his head. So pretty… he giggled, again.

He suddenly wanted Herbert to know… something. Something important. And he didn't want Herbert being flexible with the stranger.

With a great deal of effort, Alfred opened his eyes.

Herbert was kissing the stranger. Herbert stood at the man's back, leaning over him while pressing his face against the man's neck. His long, fair hair, still neatly bound with the black ribbon, fell over one shoulder. The stranger was leaning over the little table, his arms stretched out in front of him.

It wasn't right. Herbert had said that he loved Alfred. He couldn't kiss the stranger. But he was. Alfred felt sick. Herbert didn't love him. Herbert had lied.

Alfred had no idea how he was supposed to feel about that, but he didn't want to watch Herbert kissing other people. He closed his eyes and, within minutes, was deeply asleep.

 **Herbert-**

The stranger wasn't his type, even less so when Alfred seemed to be permanently on his mind, lately. There was no comparison, really. Where this one was gaunt and shifty, with a look of too-eager for violence, Alfred was simply perfection in every way. Still, while Herbert had promised himself not to take anything from Alfred until Alfred completely and honestly trusted him, he was rather hungry and if the stranger had nothing else to offer, he was full of perfectly good blood.

It wasn't hard to get the stranger's attention. Herbert knew what he looked like and he'd had many years to learn how to use that to his best advantage. A sly look here, a tilt of the head, a secretive smile… he knew all the tricks to get the attention he wanted.

He waited to speak until Madam Chagal had delivered the drinks but she clearly wasn't happy about the situation. As a reassurance, he gave her wink, and then waited for her to walk back up to her kitchen.

"Do you have a name, stranger?" Herbert picked up his mug and held it with both hands. He smiled when the stranger had no such restraint and began gulping his. He clearly had more experience with the drink than Alfred and swallowed eagerly.

"Nosy, aren't you?"

"Curious. Nothing more. Another drink?"

It was six full mugs later that the stranger was addled enough to start talking. He talked about a great deal, but nothing of any real importance, nothing to raise great alarm in Herbert's mind. He and his friend were traveling and stopped. They'd never been to the village before; they were just looking around to see if there was anything interesting in the village. The man went on and on and, by the time an hour had passed, he had his arm over Herbert's shoulder, leaning close and breathing on Herbert with his foul breath every time he spoke.

It took all Herbert's self-control not to kill the man right then and there. He was dirty and smelled foul. To be completely honest, when Alfred had first arrived at the castle he, too, had been dirty and smelled none too sweet, but the difference was that Alfred was cute and gentle and had truly wanted to improve himself. This stranger was just…ew.

While it wasn't pleasant for Herbert to let himself be slobbered on by the drunk, he suffered with it until the man pulled out money to pay for his drinks. The pouch of coins he had was impressive, to say the least. Herbert, the son of a count, didn't carry so much with him. The sight of that bag of coins raised an alarm in Herbert's mind, but he wasn't sure what it meant. It was no crime to have money, after all.

"Goodness, what a large sum you have." Herbert reached out and lightly touched the purse.

"Catch your fancy, does it?" The stranger reached out and laid a hand on Herbert's thigh. "I might part with some coins to see just how flexible you are." He tipped back his beer and took another long swallow.

Herbert ignored the proposition. "And wherever did you come by it?"

"A job. It'll be done soon." He cackled. "By the looks of this village, it's easy pay, too."

The alarms going off in Herbert's mind grew louder, but the stranger would speak no further on the subject and very quickly became more interested in his beer than Herbert. Once it became apparent that he would learn nothing more of any use, Herbert decided that the conversation, such as it was, was over.

Herbert stood up from his seat at the table.

The stranger finally noticed that Herbert hadn't been drinking with him. He peered intently at Herbert's full mug. "You ain't drinking?" He was so far gone into the drink by that time that he slurred the words horribly.

"I don't care for beer," Herbert replied, walking behind the man. He wanted the blood. He was determined not to touch Alfred's blood, but he still needed to feed and he could just rinse out his mouth afterwards. He put his hands on the man's shoulders and abruptly pushed him forward, so his face was against the table top. The man struggled feebly and tried to speak, but Herbert really didn't care to listen. The stranger wasn't a villager and, therefore, wasn't protected. Herbert bit the man, felt the hot rush of panic race through the stranger's blood and down his own throat.

He didn't kill the man; there was no purpose in that. He took only a few mouthfuls and was careful not to get himself drunk as he wasn't sure his dignity could survive if Angus caught him falling into the moat, again.

Herbert withdrew his fangs and checked quickly to be sure that the stranger had survived the feeding before he took a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped his mouth clean.

It was then that he was rejoined by Madam Chagal who asked, "Well? What did you think?" She looked down at her customer with an almost disgusted sneer.

"I think he had a lot of money for a man just traveling through and I have a hunch his business here isn't altogether honorable." He tapped his forefinger on the bar, then said, "Madam, do you have someone who might dash up to the castle at first light?"

"What about His Excellency's guests?"

"They'll all be asleep in less than an hour. The sun is rising, now, isn't it?"

"Yes. I don't think you should chance leaving this room, now. I'm sure the blacksmith's boy will be happy to run an errand for you."

"Good. Now, I'll write out a note if someone can simply deliver it to Koukol and he'll see that it gets to my father." He looked down at the sleeping stranger. "I think this may become troublesome."

 **To be continued…**


	10. Arrow

**Chapter 10: Arrow**

Alfred dreamed…

 _He walked in the halls of the castle. It was time for the ball, but he couldn't find the red tie he wore around his neck. He needed his tie. Alfred walked and walked, looking in every shadowy corner for his ribbon, but it was nowhere._

 _He was shocked when Professor Abronsius stepped into his path. "It's time to leave, Alfred."_

" _I can't," Alfred protested. "I have to find my tie. Herbert has it."_

 _Professor Abronsius snorted. "What nonsense. He doesn't want your tie."_

" _But… I know he has it."_

" _He doesn't. What would he want with it? He doesn't even want to bite you."_

 _Even in the dream it felt strange to suddenly feel hurt by the idea that Herbert might not want to bite him. Alfred protested, "He does. Herbert DOES want to bite me. He tried to in his room."_

" _And has he tried since then? You've been alone with him many times since then; has he tried to bite you even once?"_

 _No. He hadn't. "He… he wants to, but he's being nice."_

" _Nice? Vampires aren't nice. He just doesn't want you anymore."_

" _But he does. He has my tie." That was very important to Alfred. He knew Herbert had his red tie._

 _Suddenly looming over Alfred, Professor Abronsius narrowed his eyes and demanded, "Did he steal your tie or did you give it to him?"_

Alfred woke abruptly.

He gasped and sucked down air as if he'd been drowning. It took him a minute to remember that he wasn't in the castle, but was back in the village. The room was dark but for the very dim light of a burning lantern that hung on the wall near a stairway. Slowly, he remembered the previous night when he'd drunk the nasty beer and had his arm set and tightly wrapped so it would heal properly. He remembered Herbert almost carrying him down into the cellar and propping him up in the chair. He remembered seeing Herbert kiss the other man on the neck.

Alfred pushed that memory aside.

Alfred's mouth was horribly dry and he felt like he was going to throw-up. His head throbbed mercilessly. The nightmare was clear and fresh in his mind… and it made no sense at all.

Alfred put a hand to his head where his tie was still wrapped around as a bandage where it ought to be.

Herbert was sleeping soundly in the count's coffin, which told Alfred that it was daytime.

The nightmare had left him shaking and it took time for Alfred to calm himself. He knew Professor Abronsius wasn't dead, he knew the man could appear at any minute to reclaim him. It was unlikely that he would do such a thing after abandoning Alfred, but it was possible. The thought of being taken away from the castle of Count Von Krolock disturbed Alfred more than he had thought it should. They were vampires, but… he felt strangely safe. That frightened him, as if the world were just waiting for him to be happy so it could throw something at him. He liked the hot bath he'd been allowed, the heavy blankets on the bed, and the cheery fires in every hearth. He liked how gentle Count Von Krolock could be and he liked how thoughtful Koukol was and he liked Angus's merry laughter and Herbert… well.

As he thought about how very comfortable his life was becoming, Alfred began to wonder if he were taking too much for granted. They were kind, but it wasn't as if he'd really done anything to deserve it. A drop or two of blood was hardly payment enough to be allowed such a life. If the count began to think that Alfred was too much trouble, especially as Alfred couldn't work much with one arm in a sling, then he might…

"No," Alfred said, aloud. "He won't throw me out. He said I can stay and he doesn't lie."

Still, Alfred thought it might not hurt to make himself as useful as possible.

He had to start behaving better at once. The familiar way he treated them would have to stop, of course, though that was bound to be difficult with Herbert. He would be quiet and respectful and he would do absolutely everything he was told without hesitation. The count had seem reluctant to talk about what work Alfred should do when Alfred had asked, so that must have meant that he expected Alfred to figure it out for himself. And he would! He would clean every room in the castle and he would chop firewood and run errands and everything else he could think of. He would work from dusk till dawn to please them!

It still left the matter of Alfred's confusing feelings about Herbert.

Alfred knew, very certainly, that in his dream, he wanted Herbert to have his tie. It didn't make any sense and there was no real reason to do it, but it seemed vastly important. Alfred pulled off his red tied and slowly folded it up into a little lump. His head didn't hurt much anymore, so he didn't think he needed it. The dream kept echoing at him and something in Alfred desperately wanted Herbert to have his red tie. So, he bit his lip as he slipped his tie into the pocket of Herbert's coat.

He almost took it back.

Stupid, strange thing to do, he thought. Herbert would find the ribbon and laugh at him. He ought to take it back and forget the horrible dream and just keep his silly red tie to himself. Herbert didn't need it and couldn't possibly want it.

Before he could change his mind, Alfred noticed a folded piece of paper with his name on it sitting on the little table with a pitcher of water and a mug. He picked up the paper found, to his distress, the note was written in a very fancy hand, all curvy and elegant. While he could read a little, it was hard enough reading the printing in books. Herbert's note almost seemed like it was written in a different language. Thankfully, it had been written in German as he couldn't yet read Romanian. Herbert must have remembered when Alfred had told him that Professor Abronsius had taught him to read and correctly guessed that the professor would have taught him to read German. While he recognized his name at the top and Herbert's at the bottom, a good deal of the note made no sense to him. He did understand that Herbert wanted him to drink from the pitcher of water that had been left on the little table.

That was easily done. Alfred set down the note on the table next to the pitcher and poured himself a mug of water. It was good and fresh and cool. He had been immensely thirsty. But after that first mug of water was finished he looked at the pitcher of water with a frown. He wasn't really thirsty after that first mug, but the note had said to drink it. So, he did. Mouthful after mouthful, Alfred drank all the water, even though it made his stomach hurt. When he'd drained the last drop, he smiled, pleased with himself. He could still obey orders very well and Herbert would tell Count Von Krolock how good he was.

Alfred looked back at the note, but his reading skills couldn't keep up with Herbert's vocabulary or his handwriting. The note went on, but Alfred had to fight his way through many of the words, stumbling over them just to pronounce them and when he could pronounce them, he frequently didn't understand what they meant. Many he had no hope of understanding, because he couldn't even understand what the letters in the words were supposed to be. After quite some time, Alfred found himself at the end of Herbert's long note and had to give up any hope that he would understand most of it, but he was fairly confident that Herbert wanted him to go upstairs.

Alfred pushed open the door at the top of the stairs and peeked out into the empty common room before he crept out and closed the door behind him. A quick look out the window showed that the day was nearly over.

"Alfred, dear!" Mama Rebecca came out from the kitchen behind the bar and smiled. When he went to the bar and politely nodded his head to her, she reached over the bar and patted his cheek. "So good to see you up; I was starting to worry. And don't you look better with a good long sleep? Here, you just sit down and I'll get you something to eat. You must be starving."

Before he could protest that she didn't have to use up food that she would certainly need for her customers on him, she'd hurried into the kitchen and returned moments later with a bowl of hot stew. With all the water he'd drunk, he wasn't really very hungry, but she seems so happy to give him something and he liked making people happy. He ate the stew.

After finishing the stew, Mama Rebecca was right at his side and tapped his uninjured arm. "Come with me for a bit, Alfred, dear. I have something to show you."

After Alfred put on his borrowed cloak and a pair of boots that Mama Rebecca said used to belong to her husband who probably didn't need them any longer, he followed her behind the inn to the stables where Herbert had left Buttercup. Honestly, Alfred couldn't have refused her if she asked him to walk through fire. She was strong and gentle and radiated something he could only call 'motherly' and it was something he hadn't felt in so long that he'd forgotten how wonderful it felt. He was so happy to follow her that he forgot Count Von Krolock had told him to stay with Herbert.

Buttercup looked up at them the moment they walked into the stables, but dismissed them almost at once. He'd leaned over the little half-wall that separated his stall from the one next to his. It was to that stall that Mama Rebecca led Alfred and in that stall he saw the most beautiful horse.

It was small, barely half the size of Buttercup, and a very plain brown with white speckles decorating its hindquarters. Its mane was long and white and very shaggy. The little horse was looking up at Buttercup, touching its nose to Buttercups, as if they were smelling one another. The little horse looked at Alfred and appeared to study him for a long moment before it lay down and started to roll around on the ground, stirring up a good deal of dust. Then it stood, again, and looked at Alfred while it leaned against the stall's gate. It waited there until Alfred reached over the gate and tentatively stroked its nose. The little horse let out a contented noise.

"Oh," Alfred smiled at Mama Rebecca. "It's lovely."

"I'm glad you like him. Lord Herbert mention you were in need of a horse and I remembered one of the farmers saying that one of his foals never really grew as big as it should have. His parents were quite big, but he stayed rather scrawny. The farmer is too soft-hearted to have it butchered, but doesn't know what to do with him as he doesn't think the little thing will ever be big enough to pull a wagon or a plough. He assures me the horse is healthy, just… small. I thought he might suit you."

Alfred looked back at the homely little horse, then at Mama Rebecca. All good manners completely fled him. He threw his good arm around her and hugged her, tightly. "Oh, thank you! He's perfect!"

She hugged him back, but cautioned, "Now, don't get your hopes up too high. He's not mine to give. I can't afford to buy him. With my husband and Sarah and Magda all gone, I'm afraid I may have very little to support myself soon, let alone going around giving horses away. We'll have to see if his Excellency wants you to have."

Alfred felt his heart sink. He couldn't just ask the count for a horse! Such an expense! And he didn't even know how to take care of a horse. But it was a very kind gesture of Mama Rebecca to think of him, so he kept smiling and hoped he didn't look disappointed.

"You've been so kind," Alfred told her. "I wish I could thank you properly."

Her broad face brightened. "You come back to visit me once in a while and that will be thanks enough. It's going to get lonely here on my own."

"Sarah will come back when she can, I'm sure she will." Alfred tried to sound reassuring. "And Mister Chagal - "

Mama Rebecca snorted. "That one… I'm well rid of him. He married me for my father's inn, not for me. I think he never did love me. The only good thing that ever came from our marriage was our Sarah. I wish I could have spared Magda his lecherous attentions, but unless I was right there, he was always trying to get handsy with that poor girl. And now he's taken her away and I can't offer her any protection at all."

Alfred didn't know what to say. He considered telling her that the count was looking for Mister Chagal and Magda, but if the count couldn't find them, it might hurt Mama Rebecca even more. He said nothing about that. He stood there awkwardly for a time until, desperate for something to break Mama Rebecca's blue mood, he said, "I met the Viscount Von Krolock. He seemed to think very well of you."

Mama Rebecca's face instantly went dark red at the mention of Angus. To Alfred's surprise, she giggled like a schoolgirl. "Angus… yes. He is a good friend. Maybe he'll come around to keep me from getting too lonely."

"I'm sure he will," Alfred was more than happy to say what he could to make her smile, again. "He was very friendly when we met."

"Angus has always been very friendly."

They stood there and watched while Buttercup studied the little horse and the little horse, looked back up. The staring continued until the little horse sneezed in Buttercup's face. The larger horse looked affronted, then leaned back down and nuzzled the little horse. Mama Rebecca sighed and Alfred heard her mutter, "Like rider, like horse, I suppose." Then she patted Alfred on the shoulder. "You have a word with Lord Herbert, dearie. He'll see that you get your horse, unless I'm very much mistaken. Now, let's go back in. It'll be dark, soon. Maybe you should go wait with Lord Herbert until sunset so he won't worry when he wakes and you're not there."

"Oh, he told me to go up to the common room."

"He did?"

"In his note. At least, I think he did. I don't read very well, but I'm pretty sure that was what he wrote."

"Go fetch that note and we'll make sure, shall we? I can read."

They went back into the inn and Mama Rebecca waited in the common room while Alfred hurried to do as he was told. She read and then frowned a little. "Alfred, he's telling you NOT to go up to the common room without him."

"Oh." Feeling rather stupid, Alfred took back the note she held out to him.

"Now, don't look so upset. No harm done. You just head downstairs and - "

A have arm landed on Alfred's shoulders and painfully jarred his broken arm. Alfred looked up and found himself almost nose to nose with the stranger he'd seen Herbert kissing the previous night.

The stranger leered down at Alfred. "I see you're feeling better." The arm slipped down to wrap around Alfred's waist. "I'm not too picky about who I keep company with. What say you come for a walk with me, boy?"

Mama Rebecca beamed at her guest. "Oh, he's feeling much better… except for that nasty rash."

The stranger quickly took his arm off Alfred and stepped away. "Rash?"

Mama Rebecca continued, "Yes. It's sad, but ever since that trader from the east came through and spent the night, my poor boy just can't seem to get rid of that horrible rash on his 'you-know-what'."

The stranger completely lost all interest in Alfred and hurried back upstairs where he'd come from.

Alfred looked at Mama Rebecca. "But… I don't have a rash."

She smirked. "I know, but you don't want to keep company with THAT type of person."

Feeling strangely sulky at the reminder that someone HAD been keeping company with THAT type of person, Alfred muttered, "Herbert does."

"What?"

"Herbert kissed that man, right on the neck."

She looked like she might laugh. "Are you sure? What else might a vampire do with a man's neck?"

A light of understanding came on. "You think Herbert was biting him?"

"Well, the young lord needs to eat, doesn't he? And as you're wounded, I'm sure he didn't want to impose on you. Now, it'll be dark shortly which means my evening crowd will be coming around and I have a lot of work to do."

"Would you like me to help?"

"Oh, you sweet boy! But I think you'd do better to go back downstairs before Lord Herbert wakes or he'll go and pitch a fit when he can't find you straight away."

"If I may say," Alfred couldn't help but smile a little. "You aren't as… respectful to him as I thought you might be."

She gave him a wink. "It's hard to be afraid of a man who used to braid my hair when I was six."

It made Alfred laugh to think of Herbert sitting on the floor with a little Mama Rebecca on his lap tying braids in her hair. He turned to go back down to the cellar, but stopped at the sight of Herbert, all sleep rumpled and hair a mess, standing in the cellar doorway with a disapproving look on his face.

Herbert frowned at Alfred. "Didn't you read the note I left you!?"

Mama Rebecca spoke up, "He did and if he'd been a better reader he might have understood the big words and fancy scrawl you used. Not everyone has had your education."

Herbert looked ashamed of himself and said to Alfred, "Forgive me, darling. I wasn't thinking." As he spoke, his fangs were clearly visible.

The warning he'd had that anyone who knew about vampires had to die or become one of them was very clear in Alfred's mind. Alfred tried to signal to Herbert that his teeth were showing. The signal completely failed and Herbert ended up looking at Alfred like he'd lost his mind.

"I think," Mama Rebecca said. "Alfred is trying to tell you that you look like you need a drink, my lord." Mama Rebecca went behind the bar and poured something red from a bottle into a mug and gave it to Herbert.

"What?" Herbert touched one of his fangs with his tongue. "Oh, yes. Thank you, Madam Chagal." He drank whatever was in the mug in three long swallows. When he finished, he licked his lips and his fangs receded.

Confused, Alfred looked from Herbert to Mama Rebecca, then back to Herbert. "But, then…" he whispered to Herbert. "She knows?"

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Herbert shrugged. "Knows what?"

"Well, she has his Excellency's coffin downstairs in a sunlight–proof room and she just gave you something red to drink after she saw your teeth."

Playfully, Herbert was smiling when, again, his fangs descended and he smiled directly at Mama Rebecca. "Madam, do you believe in vampires."

"Of course not." She couldn't possibly have missed seeing his fangs.

"Are you sure?" Herbert deliberately opened his mouth a little wider, showing off.

Mama Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Vampires do not exist, my lord. No one believes in that sort of fairy tale in this day and age. Now, if you two will excuse me, I have work to do."

While she was speaking, the two rough gests came down from their rooms. Herbert quickly closed his mouth. The strangers wordlessly left a few coins as payment when Mama Rebecca held out her hand for what was owed to her, then left.

"And good riddance!" Mama Rebecca tucked the coins into her apron pocket. She sniffed before she started away to begin her chores and called over her shoulder, "Alfred, show Lord Herbert that horse!"

"Horse?" Herbert turned to Alfred.

On the way back to the stables, Herbert explained, "Madam Chagal knows I'm a vampire. Everyone here does. My family has been guarding this village for many generations. The villagers would have to be fairly dense if they didn't notice something a little odd. But the law we live by says no one must know. Therefore, we have a whole village of people who know, but will never admit it. Why should they take that risk when it would end up with them dead, turned into vampires themselves, or us dead and their protection taken from them?"

It did make sense.

Herbert cooed over the little horse when Alfred showed him to the stall. "He's adorable!"

"But I can't take care of a horse," Alfred protested. "I'd probably end up hurting him."

"We'll teach you. Father and Angus and I all care for our own horses."

"But I haven't any money to buy him. Do you suppose the owner will take labor in exchange? I'd work for him."

"With a broken arm? No, darling, I don't think that will do. Father wouldn't allow it, I can tell you that right now."

"But I can't ask his Excellency to buy him." Alfred paled at the thought of asking for so much money as it would cost to buy, then outfit and maintain a horse. Oh, if he'd ever asked Professor Abronsius for something so outrageous, it would have certainly led to a sound thrashing!

"It's a gift," Herbert easily said. "For the love of my life."

Alfred looked away, uncomfortably. He just knew something away would happen if Herbert were overheard. Besides that, it was a lie. As much as he knew he shouldn't talk back to his benefactors, and he certainly wouldn't have the nerve to say anything if Count Von Krolock had been present, Alfred quietly told Herbert, "You shouldn't say that."

"Are you still worried that it's a sin?"

Alfred didn't answer, but said, "You shouldn't say it because it's not true. You don't love me; you said you love someone else."

"I did? When?" Herbert looked honestly confused.

"When you told me about Rene you said you found someone else, now. Someone who was small and cute and very kind. It's not right to say such things about a person and then tell someone else that you love them. You don't do that to someone you love."

Herbert stared at him for a moment, and then started to laugh.

Alfred flushed. He had clearly said something foolish, but what? He didn't like being laughed at. It made him feel very small.

Finally, Herbert stopped laughing and, when he did, he gathered Alfred up in his arms for a quick hug. "Mon Cheri, I was trying to subtly talk about you. I was just trying to tease a little. I'm sorry if you misunderstood. There is no one but you."

"…oh."

They went back to admiring the horses for a short while before Herbert announced that it would be a fine idea that they should go for a walk. If Alfred was to live with them, then he had to get to know the village.

It was small, but still busy enough. There was a blacksmith's shop and a miller. They went by the carpenter's shop and a weaver. Herbert even told him about the farms that surrounded the center of the village. It was during this tour that they crossed paths with a little man with a large belly. He bowed politely when he saw Herbert.

"My lord!" The little man smiled happily. "So good to see you around. It has been a while."

"It has, sir. This is my friend, Alfred. Alfred, I would like you meet Master Balan who serves our little village as a cobbler. Master Balan, my friend is in dire need of winter boots. Would you be able to help him?"

And within the space of ten minutes, Alfred's feet had been measured and a pair of Maser Balan's finest boots were promised to be delivered to the castle as soon as possible. Alfred was told in no uncertain terms that he was not to worry about the cost.

By the time they'd gone around the whole village and greeted several people who seemed quite pleased to see Herbert amongst them, there was only a short time left to the night. They headed back to the stables to see the horses before the night was over. The stables were quiet and peaceful. Standing there with Herbert, Alfred could almost imagine that all was well in the world.

Then they heard the screaming and the sound of the pounding hooves of horses.

"Stay here!" Herbert ordered. Herbert unbolted the gate of Buttercup's stall and then that of the little horses'. He gently pushed Alfred into the stall with the little horse, then told Buttercup, "Stay here and defend? Understand? Defend!"

Buttercup snorted, causing a thick mist to shoot out of his nostrils and he bobbed his head, as if he truly understood Herbert's words.

The church bell rang.

"That's the signal," Herbert told Alfred. "Someone will be down from the castle, soon."

"Signal for what?" Alfred tried to get closer to Herbert, but Buttercup blocked the entrance of the stall with his big body. "What's going on?"

"The village is under attack." And then Herbert was gone in the blink of an eye.

Buttercup was a good soldier. He refused to allow Alfred out of the horse stall, no matter what Alfred tried. Alfred could hear the yelling and the incessant ringing of the church bell. He could smell smoke. He stood there and worried for Herbert and Mama Rebecca and had never felt quite as useless as he did then.

"And what a fine animal, hidden away in this dung heap of a village!" Some man Alfred had never seen before stood in the doorway of the stables. He was as filthy and foul-looking as the two strangers who'd been staying at the inn. With a wicked looking sword in hand, he approached, staring at Buttercup greedily. "You will bring a fine price when I sell you. You," he turned to look at the little horse. "Will make a fine stew. And you," he finally looked at Alfred, though it was with far less interest than he'd looked at the horses. "Are in the way."

Buttercup reared up and struck at the man with his hooves. The man leapt backwards, but Buttercup kept at him until, with a savage strike, he kicked the man in the head and sent him staggering backwards just before he slumped limply to the ground. The man didn't get up.

Buttercup looked immensely proud of himself when he trotted back to where Alfred and the little horse stood. He gave Alfred a brief sniff, as if to assure himself that his charge was uninjured, then went to the little horse and gave him an affectionate nuzzle.

While Buttercup was distracted, Alfred slipped out of the stall and out of the stables.

The village was in pandemonium. There were wild horsemen racing up and down the street. They seemed to have little purpose other than to loot what they could from the houses. Alfred was thankful that he couldn't see any of the villagers and hoped they were all safely hiding.

As carefully as he could, Alfred went around to the front of the inn. He crouched down in front of the large front window and slowly rose up just enough that he could see inside. There was no sign of Mama Rebecca, only a stranger stealing a keg of beer.

A fierce roar caught Alfred's attention and he spun around just in time to see Herbert leap through the air like a beast with his hands stretched out before him, as if they were the claws of a fearsome lion. Herbert tackled one of the attacks off his horse, dragging the man down to the ground. He didn't so much bite the outsider as he ripped the man's throat out. Blood sprayed everywhere, coating Herbert's face and chest. It spurted twice before Herbert had his face pressed against the wound and hungrily drank. He then got back to his feet and took off after another of the outsiders.

That next man had clearly been forewarned about the nature of the villager's protectors as he was armed with a cross. He used the cross to keep Herbert at bay then called out, "Here! It's here!"

Alfred couldn't have felt more horrified as he did then as he watched more than a dozen other outsiders converging on Herbert. They were all armed with crosses and surrounded Herbert. Herbert appeared to realize he was trapped and began to frantically look for an escape route, but the outsiders were too careful and kept him penned. He lashed out at them with clawed hands when they would move too close, but there was little else he could do to defend himself.

"Where is she?" One of the men asked. "I'm not getting in arm's reach of that thing, by God! She can do it herself!"

Alfred, panicked nearly out of his senses, turned and ran. He ran right back to the stables and right up to Buttercup, for once not frightened of the horse. "Herbert!" Alfred told Buttercup. He pointed in the direction he'd run from. "Go get Herbert!"

Buttercup hesitated, as if he were considering. After all, Herbert had told him to stay.

"I'll be right there, honest!" The fact that horses couldn't possibly understand any human spoken language had escaped Alfred. "Go on, we'll be right behind you."

Still, Buttercup didn't move.

Alfred scrambled clumsily onto the back of the little horse and, once seated, held on to the little horse's long mane. The two horses whinnied at each other before Buttercup wheeled around and was off like a bolt. Alfred almost fell off when the little horse suddenly took off running after Buttercup at an amazing pace.

Buttercup attacked Herbert's assailants just as he had the man in the stables, with kicking in a wild fury. Buttercup forced the outsider's horses away and, as soon as he reached Herbert, Herbert jumped almost straight up and onto Buttercup's back.

An arrow flew out of the darkness and hit Herbert in the stomach. Herbert clutched at the arrow planted in his stomach with one hand and Buttercup's mane with the other. He coughed once and blood splattered out of his mouth. Herbert threw back his head with his jaws open wide, but he didn't make a sound before he suddenly slumped forward onto Buttercup's neck. Buttercup surged between two of the outsider's horses and took off into the night.

To be continued…

Author's Note: Funny how this story grew; it was meant to be a one-shot.


	11. The Hero

**Chapter 11: The Hero**

Herbert and Buttercup disappeared into the forest and every one of the outsiders, with the exception of the man Herbert had killed, made to follow after Herbert. They started for their horses, but from the darkness there came another rider, a man with black curls and a faced twisted into a horrible mask of fury, appeared on the back of a black horse.

"You're dead!" Angus roared. His fangs and eyes shining in the moonlight. "Insects! Foul dogs! You all die!" He wielded in his hand, not a pistol or a sword, but a terrible ax with a long, curved blade. He swung it with one hand as easily as if it were light as a feather. He let out another yell - an inarticulate, primal noise.

Angus or not, the little horse wasn't waiting. He took off running with such a sudden jerk that Alfred would have fallen off if he hadn't had a fistful of the horse's mane. The little horse paid no attention at all to Angus or his ax and Angus gave them nothing more than a glance of acknowledgement as he allowed them to ride passed him.

Alfred didn't know how to handle a horse but the little horse didn't seem upset by that or by the lack of a saddle or reins. He ran like the wind. Alfred had to hold on desperately. Several times as they raced through the snowy forest, he thought he might fall off, but each time, the little horse shifted just a bit and Alfred was securely balanced, again.

They ran though the dark forest and off the road when Buttercup's hoof prints left it.

Alfred watched with growing alarm as the night began to lighten. He called out for Herbert, but there was no answer. When the little horse finally slowed its pace into a more careful walk, Alfred called out, "Herbert! Where are you?" A senseless part of him feared that he might find Herbert half-frozen in the snow as he'd found Professor Abronsius only days earlier. "Herbert!" Still, no answer.

Alfred was completely lost. The sky turned from the darkest of purples to blue. Soon, he knew, the sun would rise and Herbert would be lost if he hadn't found some miraculous shelter. Onward Alfred and the little horse went following Buttercup's trail.

At long last, they emerged from the forest and found themselves in a small clearing on the edge of one of the mountains many treacherous cliffs. Buttercup stood there in agitation over Herbert, who sat on his knees on the ground with his back to Alfred.

"Herbert!" Alfred never thought he would be so happy to see Herbert. He almost fell off the little horse, he was in such a hurry to get to Herbert. What a dreadful sight Herbert was. He was still covered in the blood of his enemies as well as his own, but his hands were at his stomach, holding the wooden shaft of an arrow that impaled him.

"It seems," Herbert said, weakly, when Alfred approached him. "That at least one of those thugs managed to do some damage." He sucked in a deep, painful sounding breath. "Wood, as it happens, won't allow my body to heal as it should. It will have to be removed." If he'd been human, he surely would have been dead. "You may want to look away. This won't be pleasant."

"Will it hurt?" Alfred asked, worriedly.

"Doesn't matter." Herbert managed a weak smile. "Goodness, look at you - so serious! Darling, I've had worse. It's only one arrow and a poorly aimed arrow, at that." He wrapped his hand around the shaft of the arrow and, without warning, yanked. The arrow made a ghastly sound as it was torn free and Herbert, for all his brave words, looked faint. "Not so bad," Herbert managed to say. Then he looked to the east, where a few small clouds near the horizon began to take on a pink tinge. "We can't get home before dawn." He gave Alfred a considering look, then pulled his knife out from where it was sheathed at his belt and gave it to Alfred. "Just in case, understand?"

Alfred didn't like weapons and he really hoped he didn't have to use it, but the weight of the knife was very reassuring, so he accepted it, gratefully.

"And," Herbert continued. "I have this, but don't use it unless you need to." He pulled his coat aside and on his other hip he had a pistol holstered. It was fine, ornate thing of polished, engraved metal and mother-of-pearl on the handle. Herbert let his coat fall closed, again. "There's a cave at the bottom of this cliff, I've used it before. Deep enough to sleep safely, but we must hurry. Must - "

An arrow struck Herbert in the left arm.

Alfred yelped and spun around to see where the attacker was, but he couldn't see anyone in the shadows of the forest.

Herbert was on his feet and shoved Alfred away from him, though Alfred had thought Herbert might do well with a taste of blood, Herbert made no move to get any from Alfred. Herbert stumbled back a few steps, but he looked ready to fight when yet another arrow flew out of the forest and, to Alfred's horror, struck Herbert right through the throat and struck so hard that it stuck out several inches from the back of his throat.

It was too much.

Herbert jerked wildly and made a terrible, gasping sound. His eyes rolled back until nothing but the whites showed. Then his eyes closed and he fell backwards. At the very last moment, Alfred saw that Herbert was too close to the edge of the cliff. Herbert toppled and plunged off the edge.

Alfred dove for him and, somehow, managed to catch hold of one of Herbert's hands. Herbert dangled there, deadweight, and Alfred struggled to hold on. Alfred's broken arm was useless and, even if it hadn't been, there was nothing to hold onto to brace himself.

"Herbert! Wake up, please, you have to wake up!"

But Herbert was limp and just hung in Alfred's grip.

There was a sort of 'swoosh' sound and another arrow flew over Alfred's head so close to striking him that he could almost feel the fletching run though his hair.

Buttercup was infuriated and let out such a sound that might have been the equivalent of a roar for a horse. He reared up in a terrifying manner, frightening Alfred who was so very close to those stomping feet, then bolted into the forest in the direction the arrow had come from. The little horse seemed to be panicking, swinging his head this way and that and neighing wildly.

Herbert was simply too heavy. Alfred could barely hold him and certainly couldn't lift him to safety. Another look to the east showed that the night was rapidly giving way to the day. Desperate and near panicking, Alfred looked down. There was snow below; but little enough of it that Alfred could see some grass and he knew the ground wasn't littered with jagged rocks. It wasn't such a terrible fall – perhaps fifteen or twenty feet to the bottom of the precipice. Alfred took one last look up at the sky and saw the edge of the sun.

There was no choice.

"I'm sorry." Alfred let go of Herbert's hand and watched him fall. Herbert struck the ground at the bottom hard enough that Alfred winced. He came to rest at the bottom and was horribly still. There was no time to worry. The sun crept higher into the sky by the minute. Already, a ray of sunlight was on the ground near where Herbert lay and it would reach him in minutes.

Alfred stood up. His hand clutched at Herbert's cloak that he still wore. There was just no time to find another way down. So Alfred took a deep breath, closed his eyes and jumped.

The pain was incredible and he cried out when it shot from his ankles, up through his knees and into the rest of this body. He fell over at once and curled up on his side. For just a moment, he couldn't breathe. He couldn't see anything but flashes of light. When he could see straight and breathe properly, again, he painfully got onto his hands and knees and crawled to where Herbert lay. He hurriedly unfastened the fancy pin at his throat and took off the cloak to lay it on Herbert. He worked quickly and covered every inch of Herbert, even rolling Herbert onto his side so he could push Herbert's knees up near his chest when the cloak wouldn't quite cover Herbert's long legs. When, at last, Herbert was completely covered with the heavy cloak, the sun rose enough that light fell on Herbert. Alfred prayed that the cloak was enough to save Herbert.

He could do nothing else.

Still hurting and still terrified, Alfred sat next to Herbert and looked up at the cliff. There was no sign of the shooter and no noise that might give a hint about peril. The dangerous marauders had clearly been human and wouldn't be hindered by the sun. What if they'd killed everyone in the village? Alfred thought of his kind, if rough, Mama Rebecca. She wouldn't have been able to defend herself against a bunch of lawless men. If she was dead he just didn't know what he would do! He'd barely even had his new mama for a day!

As the silence stretched on and the sun showed that the day would be clear and bright, Alfred's heart began to slowly calm.

No murderous men popped out from behind trees, but, he thought, that didn't mean that they wouldn't appear at any minute. He knew he needed Herbert's pistol. As carefully as he could, Alfred slipped his hand under the cloak. He moved slowly and deliberately, creeping his hand carefully under the cloak to protect Herbert's from the sun. He knew Herbert's pistol was secured at the waist and if he could just find it…

Alfred's hand closed on something long and… it wasn't a pistol.

Alfred froze, then whipped his hand away as if he'd been burned. He knew what he'd touched! Horrified at what he'd done, he sat in the snow and stared at his hand.

"I just groped a vampire." He couldn't stop the appreciative thought, _It was VERY big!_ Then he shook his head. "No! Don't think like that! Horrible, stupid thing to do. He's hurt and helpless and I have to protect him! He needs me." Gathering his courage, he reached under the cloak, again, and, being extra careful to avoid that particular area of Herbert's anatomy, he found the handle of the pistol and pulled it out from under the cloak.

The pistol was quite big and heavier than Alfred thought it might be. Alfred turned it over in his hands and realized he had no idea how to use it other than to point one end at the enemy and pull the trigger. He hoped it was loaded, because even if he found extra ammunition somewhere on Herbert's person by feeling around blindly, he had no idea how to load the pistol.

Then, he settled in for guard duty.

After a few minutes of standing and his heartbeat and breathing settled to a more normal level, he needed to take care of a very pressing issue. He'd drunk so much water earlier that he very badly needed to relief himself! The urge hadn't become critical until all the action had started and then there just hadn't been time for a private moment. Bouncing up and down on horseback hadn't helped a bit and he'd almost lost control of himself when he'd jumped off the cliff and landed with such a jolt. It was only with considerable concentration that he'd been able to prevent himself from embarrassing himself by having to face Count Von Krolock while reeking of urine.

So, with the peace of the morning finally calming Alfred's racing heart, he walked several paces away from Herbert and turned his back to take care of his business. He was fully aware that Herbert couldn't wake up in during the day and peek and, even if he could, Herbert was terribly wounded and even Herbert couldn't possibly have any interest in flirting in such a condition. AAlfred still kept his back to Herbert… just in case.

That done, Alfred turned around to resume his guarding and Heavens if the idea of anyone's life depending on him didn't scare him silly!

What he saw when he turned around made his breath catch in his throat.

A wolf.

It was a lean, wiry thing with a thick pelt of gray fur and it crept closer and closer to Herbert.

"Get away!" Alfred shouted, hoping to scare it off, but the wolf only gave him a brief, cursory glance before it looked back at Herbert, who must have seemed like an easy meal. Alfred waved his arms, trying to look bigger, but the wolf was far from intimidated. "Get out of here!" Still, it moved closer. Alfred pulled out Herbert's pistol from where he'd stuck it in his pocket and aimed it at the wolf. He didn't want to fire, but he prayed that Hebert had loaded the pistol before they'd set out. The wolf let out a threatening growl and Alfred could see its muscles tensing to spring. He fired.

The blast of the pistol shocked Alfred greatly and the recoil was enough to make him stumble back several steps. Smoke billowed from the barrel of the pistol and the smell of burning filled the air. The wolf was dead. It lay on its side no more than three feet from Herbert.

Alfred swallowed, hard. He'd never killed anything, before. He approached the wolf cautiously, fearing that it might spring up at him with a last surge of strength. But it didn't move. Alfred got close enough that he nudged its head with his toe. Still no movement. It was well and truly dead and Alfred let out a sigh of relief, feeling strangely guilty to be glad something was dead. But he was glad. He was glad because if he hadn't shot, Herbert would have gotten either eaten or burned up.

For a long moment, Alfred anxiously waited, but no other wolves came out of the forest. It must have been a lone wolf. Alfred stuck the pistol back in his jacket pocket.

The wind began to blow and Alfred noticed that the cloak protecting Herbert began to lift at one corner. Hurriedly, he went to that corner and held the edge down until the wind died enough for Herbert to be safe. He couldn't let something like a breeze be the end of Herbert. So he spent a few frantic moments searching around and found fallen tree branches and some few stones in the little cave and used his finds to weigh down the edges of the cloak.

He looked over his shoulder at the little cave. It just as Herbert had said – small and dry and more than deep enough for a vampire to comfortably sleep away the day in safety.

"Stupid," Alfred scolded himself. "Stupid! Why didn't I just pull him in there so he wouldn't have to be on the wet snow? He could be safe from the wind and I could have stood at the mouth of the cave to chase off animals. It's too late, now. If I try to move him, the cloak is sure to shift and he'll get burned. Stupid Alfred!" He deliberately kicked himself in the ankle and while it hurt, he felt a little of his stress evaporate. For good measure, he kicked himself, again.

Alfred stood up and looked around. The forest seemed entirely empty. But he could see a road off a short ways though the trees. It occurred to him that it would be so easy to get to the road and simply walk away. It wouldn't be hard. He'd have a whole day to walk and get far ahead of any pursuers. It would be so much safer than staying with the vampires all around and the marauders and who knows what else!

He didn't go. Rather, Alfred stood guard over Herbert all through the day and worried.

Was the cloak thick enough to block the sun? Would the wooden arrows do more damage left in all day? Should Alfred have tried to yank them out before he'd covered Herbert up? But there had been no time; there had barely been time to get the cloak over him. There was nothing Alfred could do but wait. And the attackers were probably still around. Angus had been a sight for sore eyes back at the village, but he'd have to be hidden away and sleeping, too.

"So…" Alfred said out loud to himself. "It's just me. Right." He looked down at the little knife in his hand and felt the weight of the pistol in his jacket pocket. He was fairly certain that if anymore danger came, he was going to die. But he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. "I can do this. He needs me. He's been nice and he got boots for me and he carried me when I hurt… he needs me and I can do this. He's depending on me." The weight of that responsibility was almost suffocating, but he took a deep breath and stood up as straight as he could and forcefully told himself, "I CAN do this!"

Thankfully, it was a surprisingly warm day. The sun shone brightly in a blue sky decorated with fluffy white clouds. The warmth of the day made the snow begin to melt and by midday, the whole world glittered with melting snow, ice, and tiny drops of water falling from the trees. Alfred let the sun warm his face. He felt like he hadn't seen the sun in years, but it had only been a couple of days since he'd followed Professor Abronsius up to the castle. How those couple of days had changed Alfred's whole world!

Even a week ago, if someone had suggested that he might actually become comfortable around a family of vampires he would have called them crazy. But if he were entirely honest with himself, he had to admit that things weren't as bad as they might be. In fact, he couldn't remember ever having been so spoiled in his life.

He didn't let the dagger out of his grip for the entire day. He sat on a large stone at the mouth of the cave, and then walked around Herbert several times before he sat, again. No more wolves came. No marauders. He was exhausted, but he felt jittery and his mind kept racing from one thought to the next so fast that he almost made himself dizzy. The fall hadn't helped his broken arm a bit and his head, only just starting to heal, ached more than ever. His knees and ankles hurt dreadfully from the jump, but as he was still able to walk, he decided it wasn't really worth worrying about.

While the day was warm, it wasn't entirely perfect as Alfred's clothes became wet from the melting snow. At least he still had Mister Chagal's boots and they were wonderfully warm and kept his feet dry as a bone.

When he heard the noise of something large moving in the snow, Alfred tensed. With the knife in hand, he faced the direction of the noise and braced himself for more wolves or marauders or whoever was getting closer and closer.

Buttercup stepped out of the trees. He gave Alfred a rather unimpressed look, then meandered over to where Herbert lay and gave him a sniff before he snuffled a little and walked closer to Alfred. Again, he sniffed, then nudged Alfred on the chest hard enough to make Alfred step back, but certainly not hard enough to hurt.

"He's alright," Alfred told Buttercup. "I think he'll be fine once we get the arrows out." He had no idea whether or not Buttercup understood. But, considering that Herbert spoke to him as if he were a human, Alfred decided that he would, too.

Alfred noted with distress that Buttercup's mane was encrusted with Herbert's blood.

With a delighted smile, Alfred saw the little horse follow Buttercup into the clearing and he wasn't at all shy. He hurried to Alfred and leaned against him so firmly that he almost knocked Alfred over and waited there until Alfred patted his head. If the little horse had been human, Alfred would have said that he was getting a hug from it.

"I missed you, too," Alfred said to him. "Thought you might have run away or got hurt. What a brave little thing you are."

With the horses there, grazing on what grass they could find in the snow, Alfred didn't feel nearly so alone. He leaned against the little horse and was grateful for the warmth. He even dared to get close enough to Buttercup to try getting some of the blood out of Buttercup's mane with a couple of handfuls of the melting snow. It didn't work very well. He was surprised that Buttercup tolerated him getting so close, but the horse made no aggressive moves at all and patiently waited while Alfred made a futile effort to help.

The day was quiet, even serene. Birds sung and flew from tree to tree. A deer made its elegant way slowly through the glade without a glance at Alfred, as if it knew instinctually that Alfred was no threat. It would have been an almost perfect day if he hadn't feared an attack at any moment, been worried for the villagers, worried for Mama Rebecca, and scared half to death that Herbert really was dead under the cloak.

Night came, but just as Alfred deemed it dark enough to uncover Herbert and see what he could do about the arrows, a cold voice make him jump.

"And there he is, a pig ready for slaughter." Charlotte was there, still in her elegant ball gown and still as cold and icy as the first moment when Alfred had seen her in the halls of the count's castle. She held a bow in one hand, a quiver of arrows at her hip, and an arrow already notched and ready to fly. So… she was the attacker.

"Why?" Alfred asked, trying to stay between Charlotte and Herbert, though he knew had no chance of making any difference and he was shaking so hard he thought his knees might give out. "Why are you doing this?"

It shocked him that she actually answered. "What better way to distract Count Von Krolock than the death of his precious boy?"

"Distract him? What for?"

"Because I'm not strong enough to kill him without a distraction clouding his mind." She looked back at the bundle of Herbert. "This one is useless, anyway. A prancing dandy! Feh! A waste of a man, really." At less than a dozen paces away, there was surely no doubt that she could hit Herbert's heart.

"But why kill the count?"

She leveled a coolly amused look at him, as if the idea of so much killing was funny. "Because I want his territory. Why else?"

"But you told Herbert he should go to Paris. If you wanted to kill him, why…?"

"I needed him away from the safety of the castle and the protection of the count, of course. The count won't leave his castle unguarded and, with Angus away, the count would have had to stay at the castle while Herbert rode off. A pity the temptation of Paris didn't work but, luckily for me," she gave him a chilly smile. "You came along."

"Me?"

"Herbert probably wouldn't have left the castle if you hadn't needed help. You were very useful. Very… convenient. Thank you." Then she drew back the bowstring and took aim at the blanket covered lump that was Herbert.

Alfred made a desperate lunge for her, but she easily gave him a shove that send him flying off his feet. He landed on his back in the slushy snow. He looked up from where he'd landed just in time to see Charlotte readying her bow, again. Alfred scrambled to his feet, but before he could move, Charlotte growled at him,

"I'm going to kill you next, beast. The count thinks he has a little pet with you, but I'll take even that from him. I am going to savor every drop of your blood and I am going to enjoy your death." She turned her head just enough to look at him with a vile smirk on her face. "If you stay still, I'll be kind and do it quickly. If you move again, I can make your death last for many nights." She, again, took aim at Herbert.

Alfred, with Herbert's knife in hand, charged. He held the knife out in front of him, but she caught him by the throat and began to squeeze.

"That? A knife? You think to defeat me with a metal blade? Oh, you pathetic, stupid animal."

As she spoke, Alfred saw, in the darkness behind her, a pair of glittering eyes in the darkness - eyes filled with consuming hatred.

 **To be continued…**


	12. Assertive

**Chapter 12: Assertive**

Alfred couldn't breathe. Charlotte's hand kept tightening on his throat, like a cool noose being tightened. He tried to pull her hand off his throat, but no matter how he fought her, she was immovable. He kicked out at her, but it was as if she didn't feel it. Stars began to dance in front of Alfred's eyes and his lungs hurt - they burned.

Over Charlotte's shoulder, he could see a pair of terrible, hate-filled eyes shining out of the night.

There was a rush and a sound something quite like the growl of an animal and Alfred was dropped to the ground. He sucked in a deep, sweet breath and his vision cleared. He was sitting on the ground near Herbert and he looked up to see that the terrible eyes were… Angus.

Like an avenging angel, Angus stood in the moonlight with his bloodied ax in one hand and Charlotte in the other. He held her by the throat in the exact same way she had held Alfred. Angus, however, didn't seemed to be in any hurry to strangle Charlotte, he just held her. Angus told her, "My father would like a word with you, Lady Charlotte."

Once he'd gotten his breath back, Alfred gasped, "Oh, Angus! Thank goodness! I was so… she was going to… it's so good to see you!"

Angus grinned as easily as he had when he'd first met Alfred. "And it's good to see you, too, laddie. You look a bit worse for wear, but still breathing and that's a good start by my way of thinking." He glanced at the blanket covered lump that was Herbert. "My little brother is under all that, I can tell. Why don't you take that cloak off him so I can take a look?"

Alfred swallowed, hard, and nodded. If Angus wasn't mad at the moment, he would be as soon as he saw what had happened to Herbert. Alfred took hold of the cloak, but paused to warn Angus, "He… he hasn't moved. He's got arrows in him. I think he might be dead." And it shocked Alfred to feel a sharp, stabbing pain as he voiced his fear. Worse still, "I… I had to drop him off the cliff when the sun started to rise. I think that might have killed him." He had to force those words out, the guilt of what he'd done was so overpowering. "I didn't know what else to do!"

"Aww." Angus looked at him with immense compassion. "You poor little thing." He frowned at Charlotte. "Look what you've done, you nasty hag! You're making the puppy cry!" He gave her a hard shake before he looked back at Alfred and said, in a gentler tone, "You let me take a look, won't you? Pull that cloak off."

Reluctantly, and as carefully as he could, Alfred did as he was told, and pulled the cloak back.

Herbert was a terrible sight. His clothes were stiff and dark with dried blood. He was terrifyingly still.

Angus looked Herbert over very carefully and, to Alfred's surprise, smiled. "Not a single arrow touched his heart." He smirked at Charlotte when he said, "You're a rubbish shot, aren't you? Three tries and you still couldn't hit your target?" He wasted no more words on her and strode to the boulder Alfred had been sitting on throughout most of the day and, with a quick move, he smashed her head against the stone. Then he let her drop to the ground, unconscious.

Angus hurried to Herbert and yanked out the arrow from Herbert's throat.

At once, Herbert's eyes flew open. He made a horrible choking noise then, with a lightning fast move, reached down for the arrow still embedded in his arm. With one sharp yank, he pulled it out and threw it to the ground before he, again, collapsed.

Angus looked down at his fallen brother with an expression of vague amusement. "Oh, get up, you lazy slacker."

"But he was shot!" Alfred protested. "Three times!" He patted Herbert's shoulder and muttered, "Poor Herbert."

Angus snorted. "Poor Herbert – ha! He's just trying to get your sympathy. But don't you worry, laddie," Angus slapped a hand on Alfred's shoulder in an affectionate manner. "He's going to be just fine." His voice sharpened when he looked back at Herbert. "I told you to get up, Bertie. As Alfred said - it was ONLY three arrows."

Herbert let out a groan. "Brother…"

"Don't you 'brother' me. Get on your feet; you're distressing the boy."

With that, Herbert's eyes flickered opened. "You have a heart of stone."

"Awww. You're so cute when you frown and your nose wrinkles like that. Now, stand up and stop whining. I have work to do. Father is going to worry himself into the grave if… oh. Sorry. Bad pun. But he's still worried. Get yourself back to the castle. You tell father I'll be up shortly." He looked down when Charlotte moaned as she started to wake up, but only long enough to kick her in the head and send her back to sleep. "As I was saying – I'll be home soon. Those thugs are dealt with, but I need to clean up a bit of a mess in the village and see that everyone is alright."

Alfred felt a stab of fear. "What about Mama Rebecca?"

Angus blinked and then laughed. "What? You're claiming my sweet Rebecca as your mother, now?"

Alfred blushed and looked down at his toes, but defensively said, "She said I could call her that. She doesn't mind." He didn't want Angus to be cross with him, but he didn't want to offer to give her up to please anyone. Angus might demand it - he had admitted that he was very fond of her - but that didn't mean Alfred had to offer.

"Well, I suppose she's enough got a big enough heart to fit a little Alfred in." Angus reached out and ruffled Alfred's hair just as he had Herbert's that night when Alfred had first seen him. He started to say something else, but noticed Herbert was still on the ground with his eyes half-closed. He frowned. "You're hair's going to be filthy if you don't get up."

Still, Herbert didn't get up. Very slowly, Herbert blinked at Angus. "I think… maybe… a piece of the arrow broke off inside me."

Angus' eyes went very wide. He fell onto his knees and grabbed the arrow he'd taken from Herbert's neck and looked at it very closely.

"Not that one," Herbert softly breathed out the words. "The one from my arm."

Angus grabbed that arrow and studied it. He let out a foul word. "It's small, but there's a piece missing. Damn it!" He looked at Herbert's arm and swore, again. "The wound's closed. I'm sorry, Bertie. It'll have to be taken care of back home."

"Father is going to be upset," Herbert sat up with Angus's help and they leaned against each other for a moment.

With a hopeful look in his eyes, Angus looked up at Alfred. "Father told me of your miracle blood, laddie. Don't suppose you'd give a drop or two for our Bertie, would you?"

Alfred didn't like to see anyone in pain and Herbert certainly looked as if he were in pain. He would have agreed and opened his mouth to do so, but Herbert snapped, "NO! I won't take his blood."

Alfred closed his mouth.

"What?" Angus demanded. "Have you lost your mind? You need blood to heal."

"Not his," Herbert kept his eyes focused on his lap. "I won't have it."

It felt very strange to be hurt by a vampire refusing to take his blood, but Alfred did, all the same. He awkwardly stepped away from the pair and went to stand near Dusty. The little horse chewed on Alfred's jacket sleeve with immense sympathy.

In a hushed conversation, Angus argued with Herbert for a few minutes until Angus brought his wristed to Herbert's mouth and Alfred heard him say, "Go on then. You need it."

Weakly, Herbert reached up with both hands and held onto his brother's arm, then bit. Angus didn't so much as winced. He sat there with his free arm around Herbert and let him drink. They stayed that way for quite some time, huddled in the snow together. Angus would whisper to Hebert now and then in a comforting manner until Herbert, at last, released Angus.

Apparently, Herbert was a tidy eater. There wasn't a drop of blood on his mouth when he pulled away from Angus and the bite on Angus' wrist was nothing more than two small marks which Angus lapped at to clean himself up.

"You're a right fool, Bertie," Angus muttered. "You gonna make it home?" When Herbert nodded, Angus stood up and helped Herbert to his feet. He helped Herbert over to Buttercup and got him seated on the tall horse.

"I want to see Mama Rebecca." Alfred had been thinking of her since the attack had begun and now that everyone was safe, it seemed to him, that she was the top priority.

"Can't have everything you want, laddie. You're going with Herbert back to the castle."

"Please," Alfred said. "I really need to see her. What if she's hurt? Her husband ran away and she's all alone and she didn't like those men and I KNOW they were part of the marauders - I saw them riding with those other men. I don't think they liked her much and if they saw her when they were causing trouble, they might have hurt her." All Alfred's earlier convictions to keep his manners with the masters of the castle in seemed like nothing in that moment. He was so overwrought with the need to make sure that kindly Mama Rebecca was safe that he could hardly keep his thoughts straight and, for the first time in a very long time, his temper flared and his voice raised. "You don't understand! I HAVE to see her!"

"Darling, I don't think …" Herbert started to warn.

"I AM going back!" Alfred was about a heartbeat away from belligerently stomping his foot like a child.

"You're not going back to the village," Angus told Alfred, firmly. "You're going to the castle where it's safe."

"It's safe now," Alfred protested. "You got rid of all the bad people."

"I may have missed a couple as I was in a hurry to get to you two. Until I'm certain they are all gone, you are not going there. Now, get on your pony."

"He's not a pony, he's a horse! And I'm going to the village. I don't care if there are still marauders around. I'm an adult and I can't make my own decisions! I am going back!"

Then Angus was inches from Alfred's face, fangs fully extended and his mouth wide open in a terrifying snarl. A deep, menacing growl came from his throat. "You," he rasped out his words with an effort. "Will return to the castle!"

And just like that, Alfred's courage withered up. He stumbled backwards until he found himself leaning against Buttercup. He bowed his head down and went still as a rock. "Yes. Yes, sir. I will. I'll go." His words came out in a panicked rush. Angus backed off at once, but Alfred stayed frozen in his spot. He kept his eyes down. _Stupid_ , he told himself. _Don't demand, don't get above yourself – Professor Abronsius taught me all this a long time ago. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why can't I be smart? Why can't I ever do the right thing?_

"Faith!" Angus said, frustrated and upset enough that he took a handful of his own hair and gave it a rough tug. "I'm sorry about that, laddie. Truly I am. But you've got to do as you're told." He paused, and then softened his voice. "Don't you see Bertie needs you?"

"Eh… what?"

"Bertie is still hurt and he's not going to be in top form until that wee bit of wood is removed from his arm and that can't happen until he gets to father. I need you to ride with him to make sure he gets safely home. You don't want him to be alone if anything else should happen, do you? He's been hurt so much – those arrows did a lot of damage."

Arrows and being dropped from a cliff. Alfred didn't need Angus to say it out loud - he knew he was partially responsible for Herbert getting hurt. If he'd been bigger and stronger, he'd have been able to pull Herbert to safety. Oh, what he'd done! Guilt sat in his stomach like a rock as he remembered Herbert's limp, helpless body falling from the cliff.

Angus was still watching Alfred. "What do you say, Alfred? Will you stay with Bertie to keep him safe?"

Alfred was torn. It wasn't as if he really had a choice, though. And it was partly his fault that Herbert had been hurt. He chanced a brief glance upward at Angus. "And… and you'll find Mama Rebecca? You promise?"

"You have my word of honor that she'll be the first one I seek out." Angus pulled off his long cloak and made as if he would throw it around Alfred's shoulders, but stopped when Alfred flinched. Instead, he handed the cloak to Alfred. "You're soaked to the bone. Even if Bertie didn't need a minder right now, you need to get warm and dry or you'll catch your death of cold. Now, no more arguing. Get on your pony."

"He's a horse." Still, Alfred did as he was told. He put on Angus' cloak and then clumsily managed to get himself up on the little horse's back.

Angus waited until Alfred was settled before he went back to where Charlotte still lay and yanked her up. He held her by the arm, letting most of her drag on the ground. "I'll be back as soon as I can and you can tell father that I'll be bringing home a guest that I think he'd like to talk to." He gave Charlotte a pointed look.

And then Angus was gone, walking back into the forest towards the village while he dragged Charlotte's body behind him, leaving a rut in the snow.

"Oh, my sweet cheri," Herbert shook his head at Alfred. "Of all the people for you to get assertive with, you had to choose Angus? He doesn't take well to being challenged on his orders when there's fighting."

"But… Mama Rebecca might really be hurt and I just want to see her. She's so nice."

"Yes, she is, but have no fear - Angus will keep his word. Now, we really should go. Have you a name for your horse?"

Alfred looked at his shaggy little horse and felt a surge of affection for it. "Dusty. He was rolling in the dust when I first saw him. You know, it's lucky he was in the stables. Without him, I wouldn't have found you." When Herbert's mouth fell open and he stared, Alfred self-consciously looked down at his feet. "Did I say something stupid?"

"No. No, certainly not." He laughed and stroked Buttercup's mane. "Your Dusty is a very lucky little horse. I'm just quite pleased that you seem happy to have found me. How very flattering. Right, then. Let's get going."

Buttercup knew how to get back to the top of the cliff and Dusty was content to follow Buttercup which meant that they were all well on their way in just a few moments.

"Are you sure you don't need more blood?" Alfred asked after a time. He could hardly see Herbert in the darkness. The sky was overcast and the moon only barely peeked through the breaks in the clouds.

Alfred could clearly hear longing in Herbert's voice when he said, "No. Thank you, dearest. Angus' blood will get me home and then father will take care of me. For vampires, our maker's blood can be very healing. Besides, with this wood stuck in me, I won't properly heal no matter how much blood I drink. And you've had a hard night; I don't want to put any more strain you. Let's just ride."

"Oh. Alright." There wasn't much else Alfred could say. It made sense why Herbert didn't want his blood, though. Alfred had dropped him off a cliff. Herbert must have been very angry.

Given Herbert's wounded condition, they moved slowly, so slowly in fact that when they arrived at the castle, Count Von Krolock and Angus were both waiting for them. Count Von Krolock stood at the gates of the castle, looking as grand and important as he had the first time Alfred had gone to the Castle. A gust of wind blew his cloak, making it billow around him. The sky had cleared and the moon shone just right on the count and cast a shadow of him that stretched behind him and up the wall of the castle, as if it were the shadow of a giant. Angus stood next to the count with his arms crossed over his chest and the two men waited patiently while Alfred and Herbert approached the castle.

The count very gently helped Herbert off his horse and then carefully looked him all over, as if he might find more arrows sticking out of his son. He went so far as to peek into the tears in Herbert's clothes that the arrows had torn, apparently trying to make sure the wounds were properly healed. "We'll get that last wood out of you when you're inside and comfortable. It'll only be a moment's work," the count reassured Herbert as he drew him in for a tight embrace. "The guests are all gone, now, so it's safe for Alfred to stay home."

"Laddie?"

Alfred looked down from where he sat on Dusty to find Angus standing beside him. He looked away.

"You need a hand down?"

Alfred shook his head and scrambled down off Dusty, on the side away from Angus.

There was along, awkward pause.

"I'm sorry," Angus said, quietly. "You know I didn't want to scare you, I hope."

Falling easily into old skills he'd learn to protect himself with, Alfred nodded and quickly said, "Of course, sir. I know. I'm not scared, sir." He kept his eyes off Angus and busied himself with stroking Dusty's mane. "Is… is Charlotte here?"

Count Von Krolock sniffed, "She is having some time alone to think about her actions and the consequences of them. I promise you that she is quite secure where she is and she will not be a nuisance to anyone."

"Alfred, darling," Herbert said from where he leaned heavily against the count, one arm draped over his father's shoulders while the count had a supporting arm around Herbert's waist. "Won't you let Angus help you find something dry to wear?"

"I can just sit by the fire…"

Count Von Krolock gave Alfred a stern look. "Let Angus help you."

"Yes, sir."

Angus stayed with Alfred after the count hurried Herbert inside. Angus stabled the horses and took time to get them brushed down and comfortable and fed. Then he led Alfred up into the castle. He took Alfred to a different room, one he hadn't been to before. It was another bedroom, but it lacked all the little trinkets and decorations of the count and Herbert's rooms. The one Angus took Alfred to was spartan, but clean and comfortable. Once there, he left the door wide-open and turned to face Alfred.

"I really AM very sorry I frightened you out in the forest, laddie," Angus said. "But it was necessary. I can't look after you, hunt for more of those cretins, make sure the villagers are safe, and keep an eye on the prisoner all at the same time. I needed you and Bertie to be safe and a little scare seemed like the fastest way to get you to safety. I'm no gentleman - to father's dismay – I'm a warrior and in matters of battle, I expect to be obeyed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I'll be good."

"Oh, I didn't want this. I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"But I…" Alfred floundered, looking for the right way to explain. "I was just startled. You were right. I shouldn't have gotten mouthy, that was very wrong. It was rude and wrong and I know better than to talk to my betters like that!" Alfred lowered his head and said, "If you have to punish me, I understand." He couldn't quite keep the fear out of his voice because it hurt so badly when Professor Abronsisu thrashed him that he didn't want to imagine what it would feel like if a vampire did it.

"Punish? I don't see any need for that. Just you listen next time."

"Oh, I will! I'm very good at obeying orders. Normally." In fact, orders often helped Alfred feel more calm. "I lived with a man who always told me what to do; he always gave me orders so I knew just what to do. He's gone, now. I don't mind orders, I'm used to them. I just don't like being yelled at."

Angus nodded, sagely. "Father did say you're just learning to make your own decisions, so it's reasonable you'd make a few judgement errors. Well, I'll keep that in mind and I'll do my best not to yell. On a more cheery note, I did find Rebecca."

Alfred did look up at Angus at that. "You found Mama Rebecca? Is she alright? They didn't hurt her, did they?"

Angus let out a rough bark of a laugh and took Alfred's arm to draw him close to the fire. The warmth was wonderful. "Hurt her? My bonnie flower went and bashed in some thug's skull with a shovel!" He was clearly tickled pink about that. "She's perfectly fine, but she was worried for you. I had to assure her that you were alright." He turned away from Alfred and opened a large trunk that sat at the foot of his bed. After a moment of rummaging around in the trunk, he pulled out a large armful of plaid fabric with a triumphant smile. He set the fabric on the top of the trunk then looked at Alfred. "Get your clothes off."

"You're starting to sound like Herbert."

That made Angus laugh. "Your virtue is safe with me; Bertie and I have very different tastes. But it's time for you to get dry and warm. Wet clothes off." He gave Alfred a towel to dry off with and, as soon as that was done, he provided clean, dry clothing that fit better than anything Herbert had lent him – though it wasn't the type of clothes Alfred had been expecting. Angus happily helped Alfred get dressed. He had to work slowly to avoid jostling Alfred's broken arm and took time to show Alfred exactly how it was all done, as if he expected Alfred to wear such an outfit on a regular basis.

A kilt. He was wearing a kilt.

Looking at himself in the mirror, with his bare knees in plain view, Alfred blushed. He felt quite undressed. But while he was uncomfortable, he said nothing about it to Angus because he didn't want to chance making him angry, again, and as Angus was apparently the count's heir, he really ought to be obeyed as much as the count.

Alfred wore tall socks of the same tartan pattern as the kilt and a white shirt with polished brass buttons. The shoes Angus gave him were very odd and Angus had to teach him how to tie the very long laces. The kilt was a long piece of fabric that had to be wrapped in just the right way and then wrapped up over Alfred's chest and over one shoulder. Just when Alfred thought they must be done, Angus strapped a long knife to Alfred's leg.

"Why do I need a knife?"

Angus shrugged as he stood up from where he'd buckled the little sheath around Alfred's calf. "It's called a dirk and even if you don't need one now, you may need one later. Never go without a knife, my lad."

When all was done, Alfred followed Angus out of the bedroom. "Are you sure about this?" Alfred asked as he followed Angus down the hall to Count Von Krolock's rooms where, Angus said, the count and Herbert were waiting for them. Alfred kept bending over to tugged on the hem of the kilt, but it would never cover his knees. "Will the count think it's proper?"

"Of course. You look fine. Have you never seen a Scotsman before?" He turned his head to smile at Alfred. "And a right proper look it is for my youngest brother."

Alfred's discomfort didn't vanish, but he did feel a warm little glow in his chest at Angus so easily calling Alfred his brother. "Thank you for the clothes, sir. I do appreciate it."

Angus groaned. "Don't go calling me 'sir'! You call me Angus."

They went to the count's rooms where Herbert, laying on the count's bed, but looking much improved, smiled upon seeing Alfred. His smile brightened. "Oh, Angus! He looks splendid!"

Count Von Krolock rolled his eyes and heaved a great sigh. "I'm trying to civilize the boy, Angus. You didn't have a single pair of trousers for him?"

"Why would I put him in trousers when he can wear a kilt?"

At the center of attention, the exact place he hated being, Alfred nervously started to chew his fingernail.

The count said, "His clothes are clean and dry, now. I told you that."

"Ah, father, why put him in those rags when he can have something better? It's perfectly decent and he's dry and warm enough. Sit by the fire, Alfred. No reason to keep standing."

Alfred did as he was told as the count and Angus debated the virtues of a kilt, and as soon as he was sitting on the floor next to the fireplace, Herbert sat at his side. There was no sign at all that he had been injured. He had clean clothes and looked as cheery and energetic as he had when Alfred had first met him at the gates of the castle. He didn't seem at all angry.

"Are you alright?" Alfred asked.

"Oh, I'm perfectly fine. Father took care of everything." He held out his hand to Alfred and showed him, resting in his palm, was a tiny bit of wood no bigger than a blueberry. "That little thing caused all the trouble, but it just took a moment for father to fish it out and now I'm just as well as ever. And don't you look adorable. Angus hasn't worn his kilt in ages! Gosh, you do have cute knees."

Pulling the bottom of the kilt down as much as he was able to, Alfred blushed. He'd never had so much of his skin exposed in public.

"Sweetheart," Herbert pulled his jacket off and spread it over Alfred's bare legs. "Father and Angus spoke before we got here. Father said that Angus told him… did you really wait with me all day when I was sleeping?"

"Yes. I couldn't just leave you there."

Herbert got a funny look on his face and looked as if he wanted to pounce on Alfred, but instead he pulled his knees up to his chest and happily smiled at the fire. "You really are perfect, aren't you?"

"Huh?" Alfred lowered his voice a little and asked, "Are you still angry with me?"

"Angry? Why should I be angry? You stayed with me all through the day and what a terrible day it must have been for you! Angus said there was a dead wolf and you got wet and cold – again! – and that Charlotte turned up when I was too weak to help you. You're my hero."

"But I dropped you off the cliff." Alfred went from chewing on his fingernail to biting his thumb. "I wasn't strong enough to pull you up and I didn't know what to do so I just… I dropped you."

Herbert shrugged, carelessly. "It was only a little fall. Besides, you did try to pull me up and when that didn't work, you did the only thing you could do. The alternative was that you let me hang there and get roasted. Given the choices, I don't mind the fall a bit. So, no – I'm not at all angry."

"But if you're not angry, then why didn't you want my- "

The count strode over to them and told Herbert, "It's time for you to get some sleep."

"What? Oh, but father! It's still dark and…"

"And nothing. You've just gone through a rough time and I want you to be well rested."

When Herbert looked like he might protest, Count Von Krolock held out a hand. "I won't hear it. If you are very good and do as you're told, I'll let you sit in when I question our guest tomorrow night."

Herbert closed his mouth and his eyes narrowed. He gave a wicked little smile. "I like interrogations."

"We are going to be civilized about it, Herbert."

"But what fun is an interrogation without the torture?" Herbert pouted.

"I'm serious. If you can't behave I'll have you down at the village. I'm sure Madam Chagal needs some help washing dishes or scrubbing floors."

The threat had the desired effect. Herbert sat up very straight, put his hands primly on his lap and gave the count a perfectly innocent smile. "No need for that – you know I wouldn't displease you for the world. I'll be an angel."

The count nodded at him. "I'm sure you will be. Now, off you go."

As soon as Herbert left the room, Count Von Krolock went to Alfred. It was to Alfred's immense shock that Count Von Krolock pulled Alfred to his feet and then wrapped Alfred in his arms and hugged him tightly. For a long while, the count said nothing. Then he finally eased his grip and looked down at Alfred with a smile. "Thank you, Alfred. I am so proud of you."

"Why?"

"You stayed with my son all through the day when he was injured and completely helpless. You didn't have to, but you did. When Charlotte found him, you stood between her and Herbert. You are such a very brave young man."

Alfred blushed at the praise. He almost argued out of reflex, but the count didn't lie. He never lied. All at once, Alfred felt his eyes starting to burn and it made no sense – there was no reason to cry, everyone was safe and Charlotte couldn't hurt them anymore, but still, it was as if all the stress fell on him at once and he was suddenly shaking. "I wasn't brave. I was so scared."

"And yet, you stayed with Herbert. You didn't runaway. I am so very proud of you."

"Really?"

"Really."

It took another brave moment for Alfred to push his luck and confess, "I was scared out of my mind. There was a wolf and I had to kill it." He clenched his hands on the part of Angus' kilt that hung over his chest. "I've never killed anything before."

"That would be frightening. Did you thank Angus for lending you clothes?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's very good, my polite little pet. But it is time for you to have your own clothes. What you own is threadbare and likely to fall apart at any minute."

"Herbert asked the cobbler make me boots."

"Excellent. But you will need a whole wardrobe and… you frown? Don't you want new clothes?"

"Sir, please… I really don't want to take so much. I could never repay you for all that. Herbert already told me not to ask about the price of the boots and he told me he was going to give me Dusty and… oh!" Alfred gasped and looked at the count with horror. "He's not my horse; I never paid for him. I stole him!" He'd never stolen anything before.

"I'm sure his current owner will understand that it was an emergency situation." The count seemed amused by the turn of the conversation. "And a horse is a necessity for safety and transportation. You will have your Dusty. And I won't hear of repayments - there is nothing to repay. As head of this household, it is my responsibility to see that everyone in it is taken care of and that includes decent clothing. The cost means nothing to me. Think no more about it."

Stubbornly, Alfred shook his head. "It's too much! Please. I can make my own clothes if I can get fabric. And my clothes aren't so bad. I can patch the elbows of my coat and…"

"No," Count Von Krolock said, firmly. "No patches for the children of this house."

Alfred was shocked and muttered, "But… I'm not a child." He wasn't a pet, either, but that didn't seem to deter the count from treating him like one on occasion.

Count Von Krolock continued as if he hadn't heard Alfred. "You will have new clothes. I will have one of the boys go to the village and see what they can find for you; there must be someone with clothes your size that they are willing to sell. That will ensure you have something sturdy and warm. Later, we will have your measurements taken and sent with one of the boys to Paris or perhaps London to have at least two fine outfits commissioned. However, if you truly wish to make some of your own clothes, I will purchase some fabric and you may do as you wish. Be warned - Herbert may take advantage of your skill with a needle; if you aren't careful, you'll end up making him a new wardrobe, too."

Alfred agreed, happily.

"Excellent." The count said. "There is food for you in the kitchen, Koukol left bread and cheese. Why don't you head down there while I have a word with Angus about what happened in the village?" He gave Alfred directions to the kitchen and Alfred bowed his head politely to both the count and Angus before he left the room. He paused at the door and said to Angus,

"I'm sorry I was rude to you. I won't do it, again."

Angus smiled. "Everyone has a bad day now and then and I think that day was about as bad as it could get for you. Don't fret. Off with you and eat."

Everything, Alfred reflected as he made his way down to the kitchens, could have turned out much worse. The bad people were gone, everyone was safe, and, as icing on the cake, Alfred would get to eat. _Maybe_ , he hopefully thought, _the count will let me have a bed of my own, soon. He promised._ The idea of having a bed all for himself made Alfred want to jump with excitement. The only thing that could make the night perfect was if he could figure out why Herbert didn't want his blood. He said he wasn't angry, but…

The kitchen had been relatively simple to find and Alfred quickly spotted the plate Koukol had left for him on the long table that sat in the middle of the kitchen. It looked rather unused and more than a little dusty in the corners - unsurprising as Koukol must have been the only person in the castle with any need for the kitchen. Alfred resolved that he would make it his first chore to clean up the kitchen. Koukol must have found cleaning in the awkward little corners of the kitchen nearly impossible, so Alfred would help with that first and then he would have to think about where to clean, next. Perhaps Koukol would give him a hint about what he should do after the kitchen.

Alfred was still mulling over his prospective cleaning chores when a slight movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and made him look.

She was crouched in a corner, her red hair was wild and her white nightdress was torn and soiled. Her feet were bare and her mouth was smeared with drying blood. Her fanged jaws were opened wide, as if preparing an attack, and her eyes, those eyes Alfred remembered as being so sharp and intelligent, were nearly mindless. Alfred was sure she didn't even recognize him.

Alfred forced a smile on his face. "Hello, Miss Magda."

 **To be continued…**


	13. Magda

**Chapter 13 : Magda**

"You can have some blood, if you want." Alfred held out his hand. "Do you need it?"

Magda stared at the offered hand with wild, wide eyes. Fierce vampire fangs were prominent in her open mouth. Her arms were wrapped around herself, as if she were hugging herself. Her clothes were dirty and torn, and her vivid red hair was a tangled mass of knots. There was blood on her face and caked under her fingernails. She wore nothing but her nightdress and Alfred blushed to see all her curves so clearly. He tried not to stare because he was sure that if she were in her right mind, she wouldn't want anyone to see her in such a state.

Alfred took the long knife Angus had given him from the little holder on his stocking – a dirk, he reminded himself – and made a little nick on his fingertip, just as Count Von Krolock had done. When the blood rose to the surface, he held out his hand to Magda, again. "It's alright. You can have some. I know you need it."

What a difference from the mild young woman he'd met at the inn! He was still ashamed when he thought of how he'd stared at her when he'd first seen her. Magda was very beautiful in a very different way than Sarah was beautiful. Magda has very interesting curves and sharp, intelligent eyes. Her lips were full and he had seen her smile at the men in the inn in such a wicked manner. But, looking at her as she was, Alfred wanted to cringe. She looked like a whole different person.

Maybe, Alfred thought, he should just run and start shouting. Someone better suited to dealing with a new vampire would be able to help Magda so much more. But she could surely outrun him if he tried to run and he knew his blood had helped calm Sarah.

"Miss Magda? Can you hear me?" The words had no soon been spoken before Alfred cried out because Magda charged him. She grabbed his outstretched wrist with both hands and brought it to her mouth. She didn't take a dainty little lick like Count Von Krolock had but she sunk her fangs right into the palm of his hand and slurped.

Just like when Sarah had bit him, it hurt. He wondered if it would hurt so much when Herbert bit him because, sooner or later, Herbert was sure to want a taste. Sometime. Maybe. Then again, maybe Alfred's dream had been right and Herbert just didn't care anymore. And his mind was wandering because he was on the floor with his back against the door and Magda nearly sitting on him.

Just as it had with the count and with Sarah, the effect of Alfred's blood on Magda was fast. Her eyes cleared at once and Alfred could see when she realized who she was and what she was doing. She sprang away from him and they sat that way, both on the floor watching on another, for a time.

"Are you alright, Miss Magda?"

She didn't answer straight away. Her hands went to her mouth and Alfred watched as her fingers ran down her fangs. She brought her hands away from her face and saw Alfred's fresh blood on her fingertips. "Oh… oh, no. No. No. No. What happened to me? What's going on?" Her eyes grew wider and more panicked by the moment. Then, to Alfred's distress, Magda began to cry.

"Oh! Oh, no, please don't do that!" He rushed to her side and sat next to her on the cold floor. "It's not all that bad… I'm sure it's not." When she kept crying, he put an arm around her. "Please, Miss Magda. You'll be alright."

She wiped her hand over her face and hiccupped. "I feel strange."

Alfred had no idea how to help. "Won't you let me take you to the Count? I'm sure he can help."

"The Count? Are we in the castle?" Magda looked around at the kitchen, then at Alfred. He saw the moment when she recognized him. "It's you. The boy from the inn." She frowned as she thought, seemingly trying to dredge up memories. "You carried the old man in from the storm."

"My name's Alfred, Miss Magda. Madam Chagal is very worried about you. I'm sure she'll be happy to hear you're alright."

"I don't feel alright. Mister Chagal… he bit me. He… he got off the table and he was dead… I thought he was dead. And he… then…" She seemed confused and closed her eyes. "He put me on the table and I heard… yelling? I think. And then someone bit me, again." Her eyes welled with fresh tears and she began to rock back and forth. "I was running in the snow. I was running."

Alfred was starting to feel like he wanted to cry, too. "Oh, please, Miss Magda. Won't you come with me?" Alfred got to his feet and offered his hand to her. She took it and shakily stood up. She was taller than he was and, unlike the delicate Sarah, Magda seemed plump and strong with muscular arms and broad shoulders that clearly spoke of a lifetime of hard labor. Alfred tried to smile for her sake. "The count is around and he'll know what to do."

"Are we at the castle?"

"Yes. Do you remember coming in?"

She shook her head. "My memory's fuzzy. It's just flashes of things. I think I've been here before. I think I was in a stone room with Mister Chagal. I'm not sure. I can't think straight." She looked down at herself and gasped. "Where are my clothes?!" She was dressed in nothing but her white nightdress, the same one she'd been wearing when Alfred and Professor Abronsius had found her on the table at the inn and thought her dead. They were near ruined, torn and stained. Self-consciously, Magda wrapped her arms around herself, but the effort did little to conceal her curves. "I can't let people see me like this!"

"I'm sure we'll find something else for you to wear. Ah…" He looked around, desperately, but there was nothing in the kitchen. "Wait here." As quickly as he could, Alfred dashed out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs to the floor of the living areas. It took him longer than he'd wanted, but eventually, he found the room he and Professor Abronsius had slept in. There, he pulled a blanket off the bed and bundled up in his arms before he ran out of the room, heading back towards the kitchen.

"Alfred!"

Alfred froze at the sound of his name and turned his head to see Angus, looking ready to fight, striding down the hall.

"There's a strange vampire in the castle; I can sense them. You need to…"

"I know. It's alright - it's Miss Magda; she's in the kitchen." He started off, again, with Angus hot on his heels.

"Is she raging?"

"No." Alfred didn't stop walking even as he held up a hand to show Angus the bites Magda had left on him.

Upon seeing Angus walk in ahead of Alfred, Magda turned her back on them to protect her dignity. "Go away!"

Angus seemed entirely shocked. "Ah, little missy. We've been looking for you."

"Well, you found me and you've had your cheap look, now go away!"

Though he was intimidated by all her yelling, Alfred hurried to Magda's side and held out the blanket. "I don't think they have girl's clothes in the castle but this will cover you."

She took it gratefully and wrapped it around herself before she turned around and faced Angus. She was angry and embarrassed and confused and frightened, but still she managed to hold her head up. "Right, then. What's going on?"

"Oh," Alfred motioned to Angus. "This is Viscount Angus Von Krolock. Your Excellendcy," Angus winced at his title. "This is Miss Magda from the village."

"I've been to the inn, laddie," Angus said. "I've met the lassie a time or two. Father will have questions; we'd best go see him."

Magda followed Angus without argument, but she did keep looking over her shoulder at Alfred as they walked, as if she were making sure he was still with her. She stopped only once during their walk and that was when they happened to pass a mirror. She froze at the sight nothing looking back at her. She raised a hand to her messy hair as if she were trying to make sure she was still there, despite the mirror.

"His Excellency waits for us, miss." Angus gently took Magda's arm and gave her a little tug until she stepped passed the mirror and walked.

Count Von Krolock was, indeed, waiting. Angus led them to the library where the count stood by a lit fire. He was all kindness and gentility as soon as he laid eyes on Magda. He held her hand and spoke very softly to her. Alfred watched from the doorway as the count had Magda sit and listened with great patience to her broken, confused story of what had happened after Mister Chagal had attacked her. She'd woken alone in the inn, starving, with a strange woman leaning over her.

"Did you see this woman who attacked you?" Count Von Krolock asked, gently.

"Yes. But I don't know her. I think I saw her. Maybe it was just a nightmare."

"And do you think you'd know her again, if you were to see her?"

Magda went ridged. "I don't think I can ever forget her." She swallowed hard worried at the blanket draped around her. "She was… beautiful…. terrible."

"Well, there's no need to dwell on that." Count Von Krolock kept smiling and he took Magda's hands in his. "You are safe here. I am sorry this happened to you without your consent, but it's not altogether bad. You will be eternally young and beautiful. You will be stronger and faster than you ever could have imagined. The world will be open to you in a way you've never imagined once you've learned self-control. Imagine the places you will see and the great adventures waiting before you."

"But… I was going to get married." Magda's voice was very small and shaky when she spoke. "I don't want the world! I want to be a mother. I want to be a grandmother." She put her face in her hands and began to shake.

Alfred felt very awkward standing there, watching Magda fall apart. She had every reason to - to see all her dreams shatter into nothing because of something entirely out of her control must have been wretched. Alfred felt a chill run down his spine. If he hadn't been 'different' then he would surely be in Magda's place at that moment. The only difference was that he really didn't have any dreams to shatter. He didn't want to be a vampire, but then, he'd had no real plans for life, either. He'd only ever expected to serve Professor Abronsius and he'd been content with that idea. Magda had hopes, expectations of what her life would be. She'd meant to get married. She had a sweetheart in the village, then. What would she tell him? Would he accept her as a vampire or would he break her heart?

"Angus," Count Von Krolock said, after giving Magda time to calm herself. "Find our guest a room then run down to the village and collect her belongings. I'm sure she will be more comfortable with her own clothing."

"Can't I go home?" Magda asked, softly.

"You are home." Count Von Krolock reached out and stroked her messy hair. "You will be a beautiful addition to my household."

"But my work at the inn?"

"I'm afraid that just won't be possible anymore. It will likely be a great long while before you will be able to safely walk among humans." The count went on to tell Magda about the terrible, maddening hunger she would soon suffer with and that the only reason she as at all coherent at that moment was because she'd taken some of Alfred's blood. Very soon, they would lock her in a cell, as they had done to Sarah, to wait out the raging while Magda learned to control herself.

"A cell?" Magda pulled away from the count. "Is that really necessary?"

"Yes. I'm afraid so. Now, I have one last question before I send you off to get some rest. You mentioned that you think you were with Mister Chagal. Can you tell me what happened to him?"

She shuddered. "He was with me when I was here."

"Yes, Koukol said he'd seen the two of you frolicking about, quite out of your senses. He thought you were two of my guests so didn't think to report you."

"I heard him say he felt strong. He felt so strong and so happy. He said… he said he was going to fly to sun."

Angus gave the count a significantly unhappy look. "He saw the light."

Magda nodded. "He said he was going to fly to the sun. I was so tired; I just wanted to sleep. There was a cave and it felt safe and it was dark, but he wanted to go out to the sun. And… I can't have seen it right."

"You saw him burning." The count slipped his arm over Magda's shoulders and pulled her close to his side. "Didn't you?"

"There was… he…yes." She put a hand to her mouth and made a retching sound. "He burned in the sun."

"That happens sometimes. A fledgling is overpowered with the hunger and the new strength and senses and they feel invincible. That is why a good sire will stay with their fledglings until they are well-able to care for themselves. I'm sorry you had to lose your nest-mate in such a manner."

"My what?"

"Nest-mate. Something rather like siblings. My sons are nest-mates. Sarah is their newest nest-mate." He raised a hand and stroked the side of her face. "I'm going to ask that you take some time to rest, now, but in a short while, I'm going to have you brought back to this room. There will be a woman here and I want you to tell me if you recognize her."

Magda was a sharp lady. "It's the one who bit me, isn't it?"

"That's for you to tell me. Do you want to see your sire?"

Magda looked down at her lap. "I don't know."

"That's quite alright. It's been a long night for everyone. Rest easy and I will send for you when it's time." He motioned to Angus who immediately stepped up to Magda and escorted her out of the room.

When the door closed behind them, Count Von Krolock said, "Alfred?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Thank you for taking care of Magda. Come and sit with me. There are things we need to discuss while you're here. Tell me what happened before Angus arrived to capture Charlotte."

Alfred told the count everything he'd seen and heard from the moment of the attack on the village right up to when Angus had arrived.

"Thank you," the count said when Alfred had finished. "Have you eaten?"

Alfred opened his mouth, but stopped. No. He hadn't. He'd been distracted by Magda. "I…I meant to. Honest."

"I believe you. How you stayed healthy before you arrived here, I just don't know - I think you've hardly eaten two bites since you've been here."

"Professor Abronsius always told me when to eat and he would get very unhappy if I didn't eat everything. It was a waste of money to throw away good food and he said he needed me to be healthy and strong enough to do chores or it was pointless to keep me around." Alfred brought his thumb up to his mouth, but quickly put it down on his lap when he saw the count's raised eyebrow. The count would only reach across to take the thumb away from his mouth. "If that's what you're worried about, I'll make sure I eat more. I won't get sick and I'll be strong enough to work. Will you tell me what work I should do, now?" It played on Alfred's mind that the count hadn't told him exactly how he would earn his keep for it seemed to him that giving up a few drops of blood every few days wasn't enough payment for all that he was being given. "I had thought… if you don't mind… and it's not troublesome… I might clean the kitchen, first."

"I have met few other young men so eager to work." The count let out a long sigh. "Alfred, you do not have to work. I will support you. That is my duty, just as I support Herbert and Angus and, now, Sarah. As soon as she is well, I will take Sarah to one of the great cities and let her chose a wardrobe to her taste. I will have a chambers decorated as she likes. I know this castle is far from a glittering gem, but I am not a poor man. I have holdings and interests all over the world, all of which afford me to live quite well. Now that you are here to give us the benefit of your blood, I look forward to bringing a few of the women from the village up here to clean and we will live in a castle to be proud of, again. However, as this is the second time you've broached this subjected, yes, you may clean the kitchen, provided that you do well in your lessons."

"Yes, sir. Thank you. I had thought… eh? Lessons?"

With the smile of a pleased, well-fed cat, Count Von Krolock leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. "Tonight, you will begin your education. The night grows late, but there is time enough to set you to this task."

"I don't think that's a very good idea, sir."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, I'm not very smart, so it would just be a waste of time. I think I'd better just stick to cleaning."

Count Von Krolock blinked at Alfred. "What makes you think you are not smart?"

"Professor Abronsius told me so."

"And you believed him?"

"Yes."

"You believe the word of a man who was in a position to protect you, but ran away, instead."

Alfred flinched. It hurt as much as if the count had struck him. "It… it wasn't like that. He was just scared. I get scared a lot, too. I'm such a coward; I always want to run away. He just… the crash was terrible and I'm sure he didn't think Sarah was going to turn into a vampire so soon and… and… it wasn't his fault." But even as he said it, the rebellious little voice that sometimes whispered to Alfred, told him that he had been scared during the attack on the village when Herbert had been so badly hurt and he hadn't run away. He hadn't abandoned Herbert. Maybe, he reasoned, Herbert was just more important. Alfred couldn't have left Herbert to be killed because he was so clearly loved by the count and Angus and even all the people in the village. Herbert was important and if he died, people would be so sad. If Alfred died, he wasn't completely convinced anyone would notice.

Count Von Krolock leaned forward and stared right into Alfred's eyes. "I know this is hard to hear, but you need to understand that Professor Abronsius did not treat you well. You may not believe me now, but I hope someday you will. You deserve much better than what you have been given. He isn't worth your devotion."

"Please, don't say that."

"Why not?"

Again, Alfred worked up his courage. He looked down at his feet because speaking was easier if he wasn't looking at the count. "It wasn't like you think. He wasn't bad to me. Everything was so much worse before he took me in." Alfred pressed himself against the door and wished he were anywhere else but in that room with the count, but, at the same time, he felt the words come out and it was a relief. "The poorhouse I grew up in… it was a nightmare. I would have rather slept on the streets if they'd have only let me go; at least there I could have pretended there was an escape. The poorhouse was… Almighty God. It was dirty. There was filth everywhere. It just couldn't be kept clean. I woke up more than one to find rats climbing over me. The water was foul. The food was often so dreadful that it was often impossible to eat. Everyone got sick. My dearest friend, my Billy, he started to cough and he couldn't stop. It went on and on for days. Even at night he got no rest from the coughing. He wasn't the first or the last to catch that wracking cough. He died when I was twelve. They just took him away and they never told me where they buried him… if they buried him.

Then Professor Abronsius came. He took me away from all that. He gave me clean clothes and good food and a warm home. He was good to me. He was! I am so thankful that he took me from the poorhouse! I would have done anything for him – anything!"

"Yes." Count Von Krolock was on his feet very suddenly. "You left your homeland for him. You went to strange lands where you were completely unfamiliar with everything. You have put yourself in great danger more than once for him. He hurt you and he yelled at you and he made you feel as small as an insect. And then he abandoned you to what he must have believed was certain death. Yes, I know you would have done anything for him."

To have it put right in front of him with count standing there, his face as still as stone and his voice completely unemotional… it hurt.

"He treated you very poorly, Alfred. You DO deserve better than what he gave you."

"But…"

"Ask yourself this: would you treat someone the way he treated you?" When Alfred didn't answer after a minute, the count patted him on the shoulder. "Enough of such serious talk. We were discussing your lessons. Regardless of what you think about your intellect, you WILL be taking lessons. I will not have an uneducated child in my house when I'm perfectly capable of correcting the situation. Each evening you will have two hours of book lessons, I will decide what they will be but you may expect mathematics, reading, and history. I had considered having you learn a language, but… how many do you currently speak?"

"English, German, and Romanian, sir."

"Three languages. Impressive. It takes a sharp mind to learn languages."

Professor Abronsius had told Alfred that any silly child can learn how to speak – it took little effort at all. Alfred didn't say that to the count as he expected the count would have a poor reaction to it. Also, he rather liked the warm glow he felt in his chest at the count's praise. He couldn't help but smile with happiness. "I could try to learn another… if you like."

"Is there one that interests you?"

Caught on the spot, Alfred thought desperately. "Well… the other night, you gave me medicine to help me sleep when my back hurt. You and Herbert said something in a language I didn't understand. What was that?"

"French. It is Herbert's first language. If you would like that, then he will be happy to tutor you. You will also practice handwriting." He gave Alfred a sharp look. "You may one day have to correspond with someone and I won't have you showing a sloppy hand to the world."

Alfred nodded, quickly. "Yes, sir. I'll work hard."

"I know you will. There is also the matter of music. All properly educated young people should play music. Do you have a preference in regards to an instrument?"

"Ah… I never thought about it. What do you want me to learn?"

"I would like to hear your opinion." The count waited a moment, and then said, "Herbert plays the pianoforte very well. He is often asked to play when we go abroad or when we have visitors."

"Do you play, sir?"

"I do. I am quite fond of the harp."

"Oh. And what about Angus?"

Count Von Krolock wrinkled his nose and looked away when he said, "Angus will enthusiastically play for you if you asked him, but I don't recommend it."

"What does he play?"

"I would rather not talk about it."

"Yes, sir. Of course. But… I really don't know what I would be good at. I can try the harp." He said it hopefully, thinking that perhaps it might please the count.

"In that case, we will wait on the music for a few nights to give you time to think about it. I taught Herbert the pianoforte and I attempted to teach Angus to play the flute – though I will admit that endeavor was an abject failure. If you would like to learn an instrument other than those, we may need to bring in a tutor, but you have time to think."

Alfred considered the idea of the count hiring some outsider to teach him. It would be yet another expense and the stranger would be around all the time. He wasn't sure he liked that idea. He didn't like strangers - especially after strangers had tried to kill Herbert. "I'll study something you can teach."

"As you wish. Now, you will also need to learn horsemanship and the little horse you found will do an adequate job as your first horse. Herbert is most enthusiastic about teaching you to ride so I have told him that he is responsible for finding good equipment for it. None of the saddles we have will fit a horse so small. I also had a word with Angus. We have decided that you need to learn to defend yourself and he wants to be the one to teach you. You can ask for no better teacher in that area, Angus both enjoys and is skilled at fighting."

"I don't think I'll be a good fighter."

"Regardless, you need to be able to defend yourself if the occasion should arise. The battle in the village might have been quite different had you been able to wield a weapon. I do not expect nor want you to rush into a war, but I do expect that you will be able to defend your life should an enemy find their way in here during the day when we can't protect you. Now, Herbert has told me that you were reading something the other night."

"It was poetry." Alfred thought of the book he'd used to fend off Herbert's eager advances and winced. The count surely wouldn't be happy if he saw it.

"I know." The count reached over to a little table next to his chair that Alfred hadn't seen before and picked up the little German poetry book… the book that had been nearly ripped apart by Herbert's teeth.

Alfred looked at his feet, ashamed for having ruined the book, though he didn't really think it was all his fault. Herbert really ought to take some of the blame. After all, Alfred wouldn't have had to shove it in Herbert's mouth if Herbert hadn't tried to bite him! The idea of voicing that opinion was too much and Alfred kept quite except to give the count an apology.

Count Von Krolock didn't acknowledge Alfred's apology, but muttered that he would have to speak to Herbert about playing more gently.

"For your first lesson, you will read to me." Count Von Krolock found a page that hadn't been ruined and handed the tattered book to Alfred. "That one, if you please."

It was all the warning Alfred got.

Count Von Krolock sat in his chair with his hands folded on his lap and watched Alfred, expectantly.

For a moment, Alfred froze. He looked down at the words. He hadn't read in front of anyone since Professor Abronsius had taught him to read the memory of that was not something he wanted to dwell on. So he cleared his throat and read. He didn't stumble once over any of the words and, when he'd finished, he looked up at the count, nervously waiting for his reaction.

"Next page."

Obediently, Alfred turned to the next page where, to his chagrin, he stumbled over two words. The count had him read three more pages until Alfred finally became stuck on a word that, no matter how he tried, he couldn't puzzle it out.

"Erstaunlicherweise," the count pronounced the word for Alfred. "You do need practice, but are not as unlearned as I had believed. This is an excellent start. You will practice nightly until I am satisfied with your progress, but, for now, that will be enough. As the night will not last much longer, I have only one other task for you. You will copy one of those poems to give me an example of your handwriting." He pulled from one of the bookshelves a slate board and a wooden box filled with little sticks of chalk. "After I am assured you will not waste it, I will allow you to use ink and paper. Sit at the writing desk and tell me when you are finished."

So Alfred spent time in the library at the count's desk and copied the first poem in the book. He went quite slowly, though he was unsure if the count would get impatient with how much time he took to copy just a few lines, and he used his thumb to wipe away a few words here and there and rewrote them because they didn't look quite good enough. When he was satisfied with what he'd done, he looked up to find that Count Von Krolock was engrossed in a book.

He couldn't interrupt. So he sat there and put his hands on his lap and waited to be noticed. It took longer than he had thought it might, but eventually, the count said, without looking up from his book, "Come here, Alfred. See."

The book, when Alfred leaned over to look at it, was opened to a portrait of someone. Alfred didn't recognize her. The count turned a page to a drawing of another young woman with a shy smile. Again, the count turned the page and, to Alfred's surprise, he saw a pencil drawing of Angus. Angus smiled broadly in his picture. Another page and there was Herbert, dressed very sharply.

"This," Count Von Krolock said. "Is my family. Everyone I have welcome into my family is in this book. Many are no longer… with us. I have a new portrait that needed to be added." He turned the page and there, to Alfred's shock, was the picture he'd drawn on Herbert that night when Koukol had ordered him to bed because of his broken arm. It was the picture of Herbert sleeping. Count Von Krolock turned the page and there was Alfred's other picture of Herbert, the picture of his memory of when Herbert had had him pinned to the floor and tried to bite him.

It wasn't a flattering picture and Alfred blushed to have the count look at it. "I…I can rip that one up, sir."

But the count only chuckled. "I love my son no matter what he looks like. I will keep it." He closed the book then. "I will have your portrait done and included in the book, but we will need to wait for you to sit for an artist. Apparently, you are the only one in the castle with such talent. I had thought to include art in your lessons, but you have remarkable skill already."

"I do?"

"Do you think not?"

"It's not at all like the pictures in books."

"That is art done by people with years of practice. Have patience with yourself. Now, your writing?"

The count took time to look every word over before he finally nodded. "Very good."

Again, Alfred felt that warm glow from the compliment. "Professor Abronsius often had me copy his notes from his notebook so they could be sent to a publisher. He said he didn't have time. I've had lots of practice copying and he hated it when it was messy so I learned to copy very carefully."

"And it shows. But it is printed, not properly written."

"Oh, I can't do the fancy, curvy writing. Professor… I mean… it wasn't necessary to learn that."

"I deem it necessary. You will begin practicing tomorrow night."

"Yes, sir."

"Now," he looked up at a large grandfather clock standing in the corner. "The hour does grow late and I have one last duty of the evening."

As if on cue, Alfred heard a noise from outside the library. The noise grew louder until Alfred could make out the stomping of feet and yelling and cursing. Alfred grew nervous at the noise. In his experience, loud, angry people normally resulted in Alfred getting hurt for one reason or the other. He hated confrontations and from the noise, it sounded as if there would be a devil of a fight.

"Be calm," Count Von Krolock quietly told Alfred. "You are safe. There is no danger at all. Just sit in your chair at the desk. Don't put yourself near the prisoner at any time."

"I don't like yelling."

The library door was thrown open.

Charlotte had seen better nights. Her hair was in disarray and her clothes disheveled. It was Angus who held her by the upper arm and dragged her into the library. He roughly shoved her forward until she stood before Count Von Krolock. Behind them, Herbert slipped into the room. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, as if he thought Charlotte might try to flee. He glanced at Alfred once, winked with a little smile, then turned his attention back to the more serious matter at hand.

Count Von Krolock didn't appear to be in any hurry. He waited silently while Charlotte fumed. She was furious and made no effort to hide it.

"This is an outrage," Charlotte hissed. "How dare you treat me in such a manner? I was invited to this territory with the understanding of goodwill."

Alfred frowned and clutched at the poetry book on his lap. How could she not admit to what she'd done?

"That goodwill ended some time ago. I have witnesses that swear to me that you organized an attack on a village in my territory, told a group of humans about the existence of our people, brought across two people without my permission, and," the count's voice lost a bit of its calm. "Attempted to murder my son."

"Then those witnesses lie." She put her nose up. "I did nothing of the sort."

"My pet," the count raised a hand to indicate Alfred. "Saw you with weapon in hand, ready to strike down my Herbert."

She sneered. "You would take the word of a human?"

"My Herbert told me that he saw all the human attackers armed with crosses."

"What have I to do with that? And your Herbert holds a grudge against me since I tried to taste his human at the ball. He is not trustworthy."

Count Von Krolock raised an eyebrow. "That is impertinent. Herbert is my son. I have raised him and trained him to behave in a manner that I approve of. I have never once had him tell me even a single lie; he is a very honest boy. If he were to tell me that the moon was falling from the sky, I would take him at his word. Yes, Charlotte, I do trust him. Angus also witnessed both of those crimes."

"He is Herbert's blood-kin, of course he would stand with him!"

"Do you think me a fool, hag?" Angus spoke for the first time since entering. "You think I went and killed all those fools you hired? Oh, I killed enough, but I kept one to question. He gave a good description of you and knew your name. He's tucked away in a cell. I can bring him up and you can hear it from his own mouth. He was eager enough to talk after just a few minutes, let me tell you."

Charlotte looked like she might explode, she was that angry.

It made the count grin. "You didn't expect Angus to be here, did you? He wasn't meant to return for another few weeks. I think he did rather ruin you plots, didn't he? I wonder what you would have done if you had succeeded in killing Herbert and myself? What would you have done once Angus returned? Well, I suppose you had some plan to kill him, too." The count Von Krolock rose from his seat and looked down at her. He nodded at Herbert who left the room for only a very brief moment. When he returned, he had Magda by the hand.

"My dear," Count Von Krolock very casually asked. "How good of you to join us. Do you recognize this woman?"

Magda looked at Charlotte and slowly nodded.

"Be silent!" Charlotte snarled at Magda.

Magda let out a low, whimpering noise, so pitiful and so unlike her normal confidant, boisterous self. She cringed away from Charlotte, which meant pressing against Herbert who walked at her side.

Silently, Herbert put his hands on Magda's shoulders and shifted her so she stood on his other side and he was between her and Charlotte. He continued walking her towards the count until they stood beside where he sat.

Count Von Krolock stood and took Magda's hand. "Please, tell me who this woman is." He gestured towards Charlotte.

The moment Charlotte opened her mouth, Angus clamped a hand over Charlotte's mouth and put his other hand on the back of her head, effectively pinning her in place. She reacted badly, flailing and kicking to free herself, but Angus ignored her struggles and just held her.

Magda flinched at Charlotte's anger and looked like she might run from the room if the count hadn't had a grip on her hand. She, again, made the pitiful whine, before she looked up at the count. "I… I…"

"I know," the count ran his fingers over Magda's dark red hair as if she were as delicate as glass. "It's almost impossible to act against your sire when you're so young. But you aren't acting against her – you are merely answering my question honestly. Do you think you can try? Don't look at her, but just answer my question – did that woman standing with Angus turn you into a vampire?"

"Yes."

"Very good." He walked Magda to where Alfred stood and said, "Wait here for a moment, won't you? That's all I needed to know. Release her, Angus." He paused a moment. "Now, why should you do such a thing, Charlotte? Why bring across two of my villagers? You can't argue that this young lady has any reason to lie about what happened to her, for there is no reason. Why would you insult me by taking two of my people?"

"Distraction." Everyone looked at Magda, but she was looking at Charlotte. Her eyes lit up and her voice grew stronger. "I remember! I do! Before I got so hungry, she said I was going to be a distraction. A distraction! You ruined my life for a distraction!" Everyone was caught off guard when Magda leapt at Charlotte, her hands stretched out in front of her and screaming like a banshee. "I'll kill you!"

Count Von Krolock caught Magda about the waist before she could reach Charlotte and easily held her until her rage settled. She didn't cry, again, but fumed with simmering hatred.

"Now, now," the count soothed. "That is no way for a respectable young lady to behave. There is no reason to be rough or crude." He took her chin in hand and made her look at him rather than at Charlotte. "Do you hear me? You are a lady and I expect you to control yourself." He let her go when she nodded in agreement and watched when she went to stand behind the chair Alfred sat in. Satisfied with her obedience, the count turned back to Charlotte. He almost looked like he might smile but there was no warmth in his voice when he spoke to Charlotte. "So, yet another distraction. I can see how it worked out in your mind – Herbert's death and two raging fledglings wandering about in my territory would have been very convenient for you. Yes, Alfred told me what you said – that you would have me distracted long enough to kill me so you could claim my territory. I don't need any more evidence." Count Von Krolock approached Charlotte slowly, staring at her intently every step of the way. "You have come into my territory and caused nothing but trouble. I am well within my rights to kill you where you stand."

Charlotte's eyes, for the first time since Alfred had seen her, took on something other than cold, superiority. She was afraid. Her eyes darted this way and that, as if looking for an escape route. Finally, when no salvation appeared, she blurted out, "I demand trial by combat. If I am to be judged, I will fight for it!"

Alfred had never heard of such a thing.

Angus eagerly stepped forward. "I accept…"

"Not you!" Charlotte snapped. "Herbert." Her face was stony and hard when she looked at Herbert. "I formally challenge you to trial by combat - to the death!"

 **To be continued…**


	14. Visitor

**Chapter 14: Visitor**

Alfred stared at the scene with horror. The idea of Herbert in a battle to the death with Charlotte? No. No, he didn't want that at all. But there was nothing he could do about anything. Magda, still standing behind Alfred, was just as tense as he was and gripped the back of Alfred's chair so tightly that he thought it might break under her hands.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Count Von Krolock asked, sounding surprised. He leaned forward a little in his seat and raised one of those impressive eyebrows at the defiant Charlotte.

"I am."

Seemingly bemused, Count Von Krolock shrugged. "Herbert? Would you like to accept? You don't have to; I don't have to allow this."

The grin that spread across Herbert's face was nothing short of terrifying. "Oh, yes. I will definitely accept."

"Then it is agreed. Angus, you will go first thing tomorrow night to our neighbor, Prince Radu, and inform him of what Charlotte has requested and invite him to bear witness to the trial. As her sire, he should bear witness. It will occur tomorrow night at midnight." Count Von Krolock nodded to Angus. "Return her to her cell and secure her. I will have arrangements made."

Once Charlotte was out of the room, Alfred said to Herbert, "What are thinking? You're going to fight her?!" Alfred looked earnestly up to Herbert's face and wanted to shake him. "She'll kill you!"

Herbert pouted. "Have you so little faith in me?"

Alfred boldly put a hand on Herbert's arm. "She was going to let everyone in the village get killed; she planned to kill your whole family. She's a monster! She isn't like you."

A slow, brilliant smile spread across Herbert's face. He almost appeared to glow with happiness. "This so sweet of you to say! But," he shrugged. "It's done now and can't be undone. So we'll just not worry about it, shall we?"

Stunned with disbelieve that Herbert could take the situation so lightly, Alfred looked at the count. "Are you really going to allow it?" Alfred whispered. "You'll let that horrible person fight Herbert?"

"It's not for you to concern yourself with," the count's smooth voice was gentle and, like Herbert's, held absolutely no concern at all. "Now, the hour grows late and I think we could all do with some rest. Alfred, you must be tired. Rest will do you well. Koukol has prepared a room for you that I hope you will find comfortable. Remember - this is your home, now. If you need or want something in your rooms, you need only ask."

Hopefully, Alfred momentarily forgot the trial by combat and asked, "And… is there a bed?"

"Yes, Alfred. You have a bed."

Alfred felt incredibly spoiled. He put a hand over his mouth to hide the ridiculously wide grin he was sure he was wearing and he felt like he could start bouncing with excitement. A bed just for him.

The count shook his head with amusement, "Herbert, tomorrow night you will take Alfred to the storage rooms and allow him to choose furnishings. I expect you to allow HIM to choose what he likes, not what you like. But, for now, show him to his rooms and let him get into a warm bed." He paused. "ALONE in a warm bed, Herbert. I must speak with you about the combat trial as you've never been involved in one."

Herbert sniffed. "Of course I'll let him go to bed alone, father. I've been very good, you know. I've only stolen one kiss since he got here. Well… two if you count a kiss on the hand." Herbert didn't waste a minute. He took a candle in a candlestick and lit before he gently tugged Alfred out of the library. "Alfred, dear, father is right. The sun will rise very shortly and we must get you settled." Herbert stopped abruptly and turned to smile at Alfred. "Darling, you really are going to stay with us, aren't you? I was so happy when father told me. We're going to have a grand time. There are a lot of old things in storage that you can use for right now, but Koukol is a splendid carpenter and he can make just about anything if you want something new! He can make you a new bed or a wardrobe or…"

"Why aren't you worried?"

"About what?"

"Charlotte!"

"Oh, her." He shrugged carelessly. "I'm sure that will all work out. Now, we're also going to have to think about new clothes for you, because I can tell you right now that father is NOT going to allow you to appear in front of people wearing what you have now. We do go into society at times and father occasionally invites others here, as you know from the ball. So, I really do think red is your color, but a few things in other colors will be needed, too."

"I don't care about clothes. Can't you call off the fight? Just make her go away?"

"It could be done, but father won't. That would be seen as a loss of face and he won't have that."

Herbert didn't take Alfred far from the library. It seemed that thought the castle was immense, Count Von Krolock had arranged all the living areas to be together in the same hall with the library. "I wanted to give you my rooms," Herbert said, sadly. "But father says it will be better for you to have your own and that way you can have a bit of privacy. Now, father's rooms are just beyond the library on the left and mine are up there on the right," Herbert pointed straight ahead of them. "And Angus is beyond mine on the left. So if you ever need someone, there are people all around. Of course, we all sleep in the crypt below during the day, but during the night you might find any of us in our rooms, though Angus likes to spend his time in the village and father is, more often than not, to be found in the library."

Alfred stood there and listened with a growing feeling of dread in his stomach. Herbert wasn't taking Charlotte at all seriously! And probably just because she was a girl! Charlotte was clearly strong and dangerous and more than willing to kill to get what she wanted. But how could he criticize the count for allowing the trial by combat or Herbert for accepting?

Herbert pushed open the door of the room he'd picked as Alfred's. The room was dominated by a large bed with very tall posts on the corners. Blankets and two pillows had been piled on it. The floors were clean and there was a little table next to the bed with a wash basin on it. On the bed, Alfred found his own clothes all washed and neatly folded.

Herbert looked around the room with disdain. "This is dreary. There's not a lick of comfort here. You should stay in my rooms until we can get this one done up."

"No," Alfred admired the room with great pleasure. He didn't want to leave the room at all. His heart was thudding rapidly. His room. It was HIS room. The count said so. It could be Alfred's forever, if he wanted it. A bed. A real bed and it was just for him. Alfred walked to the bed and put a hand on it. It was just as nice as Herbert's bed. And he'd been promised furniture – maybe a rug and…and… he didn't even know what else he should dare hope for! "It's perfect. It's absolutely perfect!"

Herbert smiled. "Well, you're easy to please, I have to say that much."

"But… oh, but it's wonderful!"

"I'm glad it makes you happy. I can't really stay; the sun will rise very soon. Are you sure you want to stay here? You can use my bed if you change your mind. It would make me very happy to think of you sleeping in my bed. I'm sure that thought would give me very nice dreams."

"Thank you, but I think I'd like to sleep here." But the idea of sleeping in Herbert's bed made Alfred flush. It was kind of Herbert to offer, but - goodness! – didn't that just give him a squirmy feeling in his stomach!

Herbert sighed. "If that's what you want." Herbert knelt by the fireplace, already loaded with wood, and used a candle to light it. After a few moments a cheery little fire crackled on the grate and the room began to warm.

As they were alone, Alfred ventured to ask, again, "Would you like blood?"

Herbert whipped his head around so fast that his long hair billowed out around his head for a moment. "What?"

"Well, I'm supposed to give it to you, aren't I? And you were just hurt terribly, but you told Angus you didn't want my blood and I don't know why. You can have it." Alfred just hoped Herbert wouldn't get too excited. Count Von Krolock could control himself, but Herbert had shown that he got very excitable around Alfred. Despite Alfred's reservations, he found that he didn't like that Herbert had refused his blood. After all, his blood was as good as any! Even better, according to the count. Why wouldn't Herbert want it? So Alfred held out a hand to Herbert. "I don't like you being hurt and if my blood can - "

"I'm not hurt anymore. Father healed all that." Herbert was on his feet so quickly that Alfred hadn't even seen him move. He took Alfred's outstretched hand with both of his and brought Alfred's hand to his chest. "I won't take your blood, darling… but I do want it."

"What?"

Herbert hesitated and started stroking Alfred's hand, like he was holding a little mouse. Finally, he let out a sigh. "I saw. The picture you drew of me? I saw it. I know I scared you that night when I tripped you and tried to bite you and I know you have every reason to think of me like… like I'm a monster. But I don't like. I don't like that you think of me like that." Herbert had a pained look on his face. "So, I decided that I will restrain myself for you. I haven't been at all improper, have I? As I told father, I only stole one kiss and that was because I was so very happy to see you recovering and it was only a kiss on the cheek. I'm being very polite. Anyway, I decided that along with using my manners, I wouldn't take a drop of blood from you until you truly trusted me. I can wait."

"But… aren't you hungry? You'll have to fight with Charlotte – to the death! If you have my blood then you won't be distracted by the hunger."

"I find that earning your trust is far more important than satisfying my hunger."

And then Herbert was gone.

Left alone in Herbert's wake, blinked dumbly at the closed door. He had a funny, fluttery feeling his stomach that he couldn't have identified to save his life.

Alfred considered putting his own clothes back on, but he couldn't figure out how to do the braces with only one hand. So he stayed in Angus' clothes and hoped Angus would be patient and wait to get them back until Alfred could have someone help him with his braces. Alfred sat on the bed and delighted in the softness. There were three blankets on the bed and two pillows. It felt so luxurious that he wanted nothing more to lay down and fall asleep. It seemed like forever since he'd last slept. But he had promised the count that he would eat and he'd said he gotten permission to clean the kitchen. So, after quite some time of enjoying the bed and warming himself by the fire, he headed down to the kitchen.

The sun had risen. There was a window in the hall and Alfred could see the morning sun shining in, dust motes floated gently in the sunbeam. The castle was utterly silent and strangely peaceful. He could see the village from the castle and a small river beyond the village. The knowledge that everyone was asleep far below the castle was an odd feeling - there was no danger at all of running into anyone in the castle.

With the sunlight streaming in through a large window and an open door that led to the back gardens of the castle, Alfred was appalled by how terrible the kitchen actually looked. There was a clean counter which Koukol must have used to prepare his meals, but everything else was a disaster. Alfred tried to clean, but sweeping with only one useable arm was impossible. He nearly gave up when the broom was snatched out of his hand and he spun around to find Koukol standing behind him with a disapproving frown.

"The count said I could clean," Alfred protested. Though he knew the count probably had meant for Alfred to wait until his arm was healed.

Koukol rolled his eyes. "No."

"But he said I could!"

Without replying, Koukol put the broom back in the little cupboard Alfred had found it in, then, with a hand on Alfred's shoulder, guided him to the table. He pointed imperiously at a chair, silently telling Alfred to sit. When he was satisfied with Alfred's obedience, Koukol fetched a plate of food and set it down in front of Alfred.

"Eat."

"I was going to. But I'm not lying, the count did say I could clean; he won't be angry with me."

If Koukol cared much about what Count Von Krolock said, he didn't give any sign.

So Alfred ate his fill until he thought he might burst. When his plate was empty, he stood up to take it to the sink to wash it, but Koukol took it from him and glared until Alfred sat down. It made Alfred so nervous that he asked, "You don't mind if I help clean, do you? I won't if you don't want me to."

Koukol waved a careless hand in the air. "Help when better. Rest arm, now."

Alfred was pleased to find that the longer he spoke with Koukol, the easier it was to understand his speech. "It is feeling a lot better. It hardly hurts at all."

"Still broken."

"Well, yes, but it's still a lot better. I'm sure I can do something to help."

"Sleep."

It was a good idea, but he didn't think he'd get any sleep. So he shook his head and told Koukol, "I'm too worried to sleep. Maybe they didn't tell you, yet, but something terrible is going to happen; Herbert has to fight a horrible vampire woman!"

Again, Alfred didn't get a reaction he judged to be satisfactory. Koukol laughed, spit on the floor, and then scratched his armpit.

"How can everyone be so calm about this?"

Koukol chuckled. "Herbert will win."

"Oh, I don't know. He's not nearly as horrible as that Charlotte! I'll bet she even cheats!"

"Witnesses."

"She'll find a way even with witnesses, I'm sure."

"Don't worry."

"Everyone keeps saying that." Alfred knew he was a little too close to whining, so he took a deep breath to calm himself.

"They are right." Koukol finished washing up and tossed his dish towel on the counter next to the sink before he faced Alfred, again. "Bed."

"I really don't think I'll fall asleep and it would be better to do something practical. I know it's hard with my arm the way it is, but I can do something else. Maybe I could tidy the library for the count."

That, apparently, was the end of Koukol's patience. He grabbed Alfred's ear and pulled him to his feet. Alfred yelped and had no choice but to follow as Koukol led him out of the kitchen by his ear. They went out of the kitchen and right back to the room that had been given to him. Koukol threw back the blankets on the bed and tugged at Alfred until he got into the bed.

"Sleep."

Alfred realized he would get nowhere protesting and stayed where he'd been put. He really was very tired. He hadn't slept in such a long time and his arm had started to ache, again. Thanks to Koukol, his belly was full and he was warm. Despite his earlier words that he wouldn't be able to sleep for worrying, he almost at once began to feel his eyelids grow heavy. The bed felt just as wonderful as it had looked when Herbert first brought Alfred to it.

"Mister Koukol," Alfred said. "The count told Angus to bring another vampire here – Prince Radu. Have you met him?"

Koukol shook his head and went to stir up the fire.

"I suppose the count will have to be a good host." It didn't escape Alfred that a good host had to provide for their guest, which meant feeding them. Alfred was very aware that feeding vampires was his place, now. He wanted to ask Koukol if he thought the count would make Alfred feed the guest, but it seemed an awkward question so he said nothing.

Alfred fell asleep before Koukol left the room.

When Alfred woke, night had fallen. He left his room to search for everyone. In the hall outside his room, he looked out the window and saw, by the light of two torches burning on either side of the castle's gates, Angus walking into the castle alongside a stranger. The stranger was very thin and had a long, narrow nose and blond hair. His face was set in a furious grimace. In a few brisk steps they were beyond the torchlight and in the castle. It must have been Prince Radu, Alfred realized.

Alfred found the count and Herbert in a large, empty room. It was stone – floor, ceiling, and walls – and felt even colder than the rest of the castle. The count and Herbert were speaking when Alfred approached.

"I think he's here!" Alfred said, urgently when the count stopped speaking. "I saw Angus walking with a man. I think it's that prince, but I haven't seen him before, so maybe I'm wrong. They'll be here any minute."

Count Von Krolock seemed pleased. "Excellent. Herbert, you will keep your attention on Charlotte. She's caused me enough aggravation; I won't have more of it. Don't even think about Prince Radu; Angus has been told to keep an eye on him and he will ensure that there is no interference."

Herbert was dressed, not in his favored finery, but simple loose trousers and a tunic. His long hair had been braided and pinned to the back of his head to keep it out of the way. "Don't worry, father. I'll see this over with quickly enough."

Alfred lightly tapped Count Von Krolock's arm. "And what should I do, sir?"

Count Von Krolock told him, "You should go back to your room."

"What?"

"You will go to your room and stay there until the trial is over. In your room you will practice your reading. As soon as Radu takes his leave of us, you will read to me and then we will see where your knowledge of history stands." He handed Alfred a small, thin book that appeared to be another poetry book. "There's no need at all for you to be witness to what will happen here tonight – it will be messy and unpleasant, I can assure you of that."

"Yes, sir. I understand." He wasn't happy, but he did understand his orders. He was about to leave, when he paused and hesitantly asked the count, "Ummm… will I have to give your guest blood?"

"No. I don't even want him to see you. If he requests to be fed, I will provide for him, but he won't have you, Alfred."

Alfred let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir."

Back in his room, Alfred couldn't concentrate enough to read, despite the count's order. The whole situation was nerve-wracking and he couldn't stop himself thinking that somehow, Charlotte would get the better of Herbert. It was too terrible to imagine. He paced the room and made sure the bed was tidied. Eventually, he became so agitated with his own imagination about what might be happening that he couldn't help himself and peeked out the door.

Herbert and Angus stood at the door of Herbert's room. Oh! What a sight Herbert was. He was splattered with blood from the top of his head to the soles of his shoes. It looked like someone had taken a large bucket of blood and just thrown it on him! Yet, there he stood smiling and laughing with his brother, clearly unhurt. He'd won. Herbert and Angus spoke to one another for a moment before Angus turned and left and Herbert went into his room.

Herbert was happy, Alfred realized. Happy that he'd killed Charlotte. While Alfred was relieved that they wouldn't have to worry about her again, he couldn't imagine being happy to kill anyone as, apparently, Herbert was.

As soon as the hall emptied, Alfred crept out of his room. He found that he wasn't frightened. After all, Herbert had won which meant the danger was gone. But Alfred was still troubled. It was one thing to kill when it was necessary, but that didn't mean a person ought to enjoy it. Herbert had been savage in his defense of the village but that had been heroic. Even the fact that he'd obviously killed Charlotte was no terrible thing as she'd plotted death for his whole family. But to take pleasure in killing... only a cruel person could enjoy killing and Herbert - silly, flirty Herbert - wasn't cruel. At least, Alfred hadn't thought he was cruel.

Alfred left his room with a clean conscience. It wasn't disobedience; the count had told him to stay in his room during the trial by combat and, clearly, that was over or Herbert would have still been down there.

The night was bright with the moon lighting Alfred's way when he walked to the stables. It seemed like it would be a quiet place to think for a while. Dusty was asleep when Alfred looked over the gate of his stall. The other horses were awake and Alfred wondered if they'd learned, from being trained by vampires, to be awake during the night rather than the day. It would be logical. With twin whinnying from Buttercup and Heather, Dusty woke and looked up at Alfred with a curious little snuffling noise. Alfred happily climbed over the gate then sat next to Dusty in his bed of straw.

"Herbert will show me how to take care of you," Alfred said, aloud while he ran his hands over Dusty's long, shaggy mane. "I'm sure he won't smell like blood by then. Do you have food?" He really wasn't sure what or how much horses should eat. Hay would probably be a good bet. A look around showed that, yes, someone had provided food and water for Dusty. In the future, Alfred firmly told himself, he would tend to Dusty. He'd never been responsible for another creature's life and the weight of that was awesome.

Being alone with the horses had helped settle Alfred's frayed nerves. The calm of the stables with the earthy smell of straw and the body-heat given off by Dusty was so very restful that he thought maybe he would, in fact, sleep.

Buttercup and Heather very suddenly began snorting and stomping their feet in agitation. It made Alfred look up and when he did he saw the blonde stranger looking down at him from over the stall's gate. He was dressed as finely as Herbert, but he was small, really not much taller than Alfred, and thinly built. He had a narrow face and a small, thin mouth.

Shakily, Alfred stood up to face Count Von Krolock's guest. He put his hands behind his back and lowered his eyes. "G-good evening, sir."

Prince Radu didn't smile. "So… you would be Von Krolock's pet."

As Alfred had heard the count call him that several times, he couldn't deny it. However, when Count Von Krolock called Alfred 'pet' it always seemed affectionate. When the same word came from Prince Radu, there was no warmth in it at all. Still, Alfred nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Get over here."

Swallowing hard, Alfred did as he was told, climbing back over Dusty's stall door, but he was only half-way over when all the horses started to go mad. There was furious neighing and kicking and stomping. Dusty was bucking up and down so furiously that all four hooves left the ground at times. Buttercup seemed to be trying to kick down the stall door and Heather reared up on her hind legs, pawing at the air.

It was so strange a reaction that Alfred froze and looked around at the horses in astonishment. For all that he was afraid of the large horses, they had never behaved in so violent a manner.

A hand grabbed his arm and yanked and Alfred found himself on his knees before Prince Radu.

"I said," the prince coldly told Alfred. "Get over here."

Though he attempted to get to his feet, Prince Radu bent Alfred's arm at such an unnatural, painful angle, that Alfred was force to stay down. He didn't fight, fearing that the other's strength could easily break his one good arm and then he would be in a world of trouble.

"I'm hungry."

Very slowly, Alfred looked up at the prince with dread. "No. His Excellency said not to give blood to anyone. I don't have to."

"I'm hungry!" His fangs were clearly visible. "My kin was taken from me this night. I will have at the satisfaction of blood." Quick as a striking snake, he lunged his face down and bit Alfred's arm.

It hurt!

Alfred let out a scream before Prince Radu slapped a hand hard across his mouth and stifled him. Just as the others who'd tasted Alfred's blood before had, Prince Radu almost at once stopped. He stood up straight and looked at Alfred with astonishment. Then, his eyes narrowed and he regarded Alfred with a frightening sort of greed. Instead of stopping, like the others had, Prince Radu brought Alfred's arm back up his face and drank some more. He couldn't still be hungry, Alfred knew, but still he kept at it, licking and sucking until, when he finally pulled away, his mouth was liberally covered with Alfred's blood. Prince Radu licked his lips and savored what he tasted.

"Such a treasure." Prince Radu's hand tightened painfully on Alfred's arm. "If you scream for help, I'll break your spine and you'll never walk, again."

It was enough of a threat to make Alfred go still as death. If he couldn't walk, what use would he be to the count… to anyone?

Without another word, Prince Radu gave a great tug on Alfred's arm that hauled him to his feet with such strength that he nearly pulled Alfred off the ground altogether. He walked out of the stables and, with his hand clamped around Alfred's forearm, gave Alfred no choice but to follow.

"Please," Alfred tried, tugging a little in a useless attempt to free his arm. "I can't leave. I told His Excellency I'd stay here."

"I am Prince Radu and you belong to me, now."

Prince Radu kept pulling Alfred towards the forest and Alfred wondered if he intended to walk all the way back to where he'd come from. No matter. Alfred didn't want to go with him. He had sudden, almost dizzying flash of righteous courage. Count Von Krolock had said Alfred could stay, wanted him to stay. He was the one Alfred owed his obedience to, now. And Alfred wanted to stay. He knew in that moment that he wanted to be nowhere on Earth so much as he wanted to stay at the castle.

Alfred gave a hard kick and caught Prince Radu's ankle with his foot, sweeping Prince Radu right off his feet. It was so unexpected that Prince Radu released Alfred's arm as he fell to the ground. Alfred, free, turned on his heel and darted back towards the castle. He'd only taken a half–a-dozen steps before he was grabbed from behind and spun around to face Prince Radu.

With a sneer, Prince Radu struck Alfred hard across the head. There was a blinding pain and the world spun before Alfred's vision went dark.

 **To be continued…**


	15. The Dreamland

**Chapter 15: The Dreamland**

 **Alfred-**

Alfred woke and thought he was blind. There was nothing but darkness all around. He blinked, but nothing changed. There wasn't even a hint of light. He tried to move and found that something bound his wrists and ankles together. Chains. Not only was he chained, but the chain had been attached to the floor. He used his good hand to feel and found that there was a large ring on the floor and the chain attaching his ankles together ran through the ring, effectively anchoring him in place.

His head hurt, again, and he was dizzy. Alfred spent some time feeling around with his hands and found he was in a stone room, much like the rooms of Count Von Krolock's castle, but the walls and floor felt wet, almost slimy. He was very cold.

He remembered what had happened, how Prince Radu had struck him. Clearly, he'd been taken from the count's castle.

"Hey!" Alfred called out, though the effort and the sound of his own voice echoing off the walls only made his head hurt all the more. "Let me out!"

There was no answer. Not a single tap of a footstep, no voice but Alfred's own echoing off the walls. He opened his mouth to yell, again, when the door of Alfred's cell crashed open and, silhouetted against light from the hall, a figure loomed in the doorway.

Prince Radu stepped into the cell. He didn't speak to Alfred, just looked at him for a moment. His mouth opened and Alfred recoiled at the sight of his fangs. "You're not hungry. You can't be. His Excellency said…"

But Prince Radu was at Alfred, on him. His hands gripped Alfred's shoulders painfully and held him in place, no matter how Alfred struggled. Then he was biting and Alfred screamed.

Later, Alfred lay on the floor of his cell. He was weak. Everything hurt. He neck hurt far more than when Sarah had bit him. She'd simply bit and then released, but Prince Radu didn't seem to drink blood to satisfy the hunger for he had kept drinking and drinking until Alfred thought he would die. He'd gotten too weak to scream, too weak to fight. In the end, he'd just lay there with Prince Radu over him and desperately hoped for it all to end – one way or the other. But Prince Radu had stopped and, when he got off Alfred, he simply licked his lips and left the cell as silently as he'd entered.

Alfred stayed where he was on the floor.

He was so cold.

 **Earlier-**

 **Herbert-**

The trial by combat was over and Herbert, fairly drenched in the blood of his enemy, was victorious.

Crouched on the floor of the great room that Count Von Krolock had decided would be used for the trial by combat, Herbert stared at the blood surrounding him and then at what used to be Charlotte. The smell of the blood was powerful, but not tempting. Though the effects of Alfred's blood had worn off long and he had been feeling the powerful hunger plague him, he wasn't tempted by Charlotte's blood – the blood of the dead had no appeal at all.

"You've won," Count Von Krolock pronounced. "Congratulations, Herbert."

"Thank you, father." Herbert stood up slowly from his crouch. He'd be lying if he'd said it had been easy, but he'd made it through the trial by combat in reasonably decent condition. The same could not be said for Charlotte. He looked down at her with satisfaction and wasn't the slightest bit sorry for her death. Her list of sins included trying to kill him and Alfred, plotting to murder his father, causing havoc for the innocent villagers, revealing the existence of vampires to humans, and ruining one of Herbert's shirts with her wretched arrows.

He'd lost more clothing in the past week…

Turning his eyes to his audience, Herbert didn't bother to hide his smile. He was very pleased with the outcome of the whole ordeal.

Prince Radu, from the scowl on his face, wasn't nearly so pleased.

Angus stood behind the count. He beamed with pride when he looked at Herbert, but his eyes kept shifting to their guest, keeping watch for any threat.

Next to the count, in a smaller chair, Magda sat. As she was involved in the whole debacle, she'd been told that she would have to be present at the trial by combat. She sat very primly with her hands on her lap and her ankles crossed, but Herbert didn't miss the disturbed looks she kept giving to Charlotte's horribly mangled corpse. Her eyes looked watery and Herbert found himself just a little shamed that he'd helped cause that. After all, though Charlotte had been horrid, she was still Magda's sire and it was never easy for anyone to lose their sire, regardless of circumstances. Still, Magda blinked and frowned and looked down at her lap, as if determined to keep control of herself.

"And justice is served," Count Von Krolock said with approval.

Prince Radu snorted. "Justice!"

"It was her demand to have it done in this way." Count Von Krolock looked at Prince Radu from under hooded eyes.

"I do not argue that, but I don't have to like the outcome." He stood and turned to look at the count before he turned his eyes to Magda. "But I will leave now with the fledgling."

Magda, realizing that he was talking about her, looked up with panic. "What?"

"I think I will allow Magda to make that choice." Count Von Krolock was all but smirking. "She was brought across in my territory without my permission and her sire is dead. She is orphaned. That means she is mine."

"I am the logical choice to take her! My fledgling's fledgling belongs to me."

"Perhaps if she had been rightfully brought across, but that wasn't done. With Charlotte dead - and she is VERY dead - any connection between you and Magda is broken. However, if Magda wishes to go with you, I will not stop her." He looked at Magda. "What is your preference?"

"Stay!" Magda blurted out. She didn't hesitate for an instant. "I want to stay here!"

It was no surprise to Herbert. All that Magda knew was in Count Von Krolock's territory so it was only to be expected that she would want to stay.

Prince Radu took a step closer to the count and Angus was very suddenly standing next to the count, not attacking, but clearly ready and willing to should Prince Radu do anything threatening. The prince, wisely, didn't make any move to get closer to the count, but said, "You will deny her to me? My fledgling is dead and you will refuse to give me a replacement?"

"Your fledgling made a foolish choice in demanding a trial by combat and another one when she demanded it be with Herbert. Your Charlotte might have been equal in strength and age and she might have been vicious enough to fight, but Herbert was a trained soldier and she underestimated his skill. Magda is an orphan who was created in my territory without my permission – I have every right to decide her fate. I will keep her and I will adopt her."

There was a moment of silence while Prince Radu and the count stared at one another. Of course, the prince was the one to look away, first. He was in the wrong. Prince Radu left, storming out of the room with fury and looking as if nothing but his understanding that he and Count Von Krolock were of equal age and, therefore, power, was keeping him in check.

"Angus," Count Von Krolock said. "See that our guest leaves my territory, won't you?"

"My pleasure."

"Don't confront him; I don't need another battle." He then looked around the bloody room. "At least not until this mess gets tidied up." As soon as Angus left, the count looked at Herbert. "You did very well, but go wash. You look like a savage."

"Yes, father."

"And find Koukol to get this mess cleaned up." he waved his hand at the remains of Charlotte. "I want it left out in the sun – let the light take what's left of her."

Herbert was happy to get washed up. The blood of the dead covering him smelled foul and he was eager to get to Alfred. Alfred had been so anxious about the whole ordeal that Herbert wanted to ease his mind. He certainly wouldn't do that as he was. So a bath was in order.

Washed and dressed, Herbert took a moment to look at his wardrobe. In the past few days, he'd lost a couple of very nice outfits and he wasn't especially happy about it. Still, he had plenty more and, as he'd told Alfred, ruining clothes simply meant he would have to make a trip to one of the great cities of the world to commission new ones. He knew his father wouldn't likely allow Alfred to go on an extended trip, but it was an interesting thought – bringing Alfred to Paris or St. Petersburg or Berlin.

Herbert was so intrigued by the idea that by the time he'd finished brushing his hair he'd made up his mind to ask his father about it, perhaps not straight away, but once Alfred's arm healed and he was properly settled into life at the castle. Herbert smiled as he buttoned his clean coat and decided that the first place he would take Alfred, after buying him a good outfit, would be to the opera. Alfred would love the opera.

Herbert's good humor began to slip away when he left his rooms in search of Alfred, but couldn't find him.

It was no great worry, at first. Alfred had been upset by the whole trial by combat. So when Herbert hadn't found Alfred in his rooms, he went to the library, thinking that Alfred, always so eager to please, might have taken it upon himself to practice his reading as a productive way to distract himself. It would have been against the count's orders for Alfred to stay in his room, but it was a small disobedience. But Alfred wasn't in the library, either. Herbert walked all the halls of the castle, growing more and more concerned, and didn't actually worry until he found himself in the highest rooms of the great tower where even his father hadn't ventured in years. Alfred was nowhere in the castle.

Herbert stood in the dusty tower room and tried to think of where Alfred might have hidden himself away when it struck him. "Of course!" He laughed at himself. "He's gone to visit his horse."

Herbert was nearly at the stables when he happened to glance over towards the castle gates and saw a lump laying in the snow. A sinking feeling his gut made him freeze for an instant before he took off running towards the lump. Angus. Herbert knelt next to his big brother and rolled him over onto his back.

"Angus! Can you hear me?"

Angus still had his head and there was no stake through his heart, so he would recover. But his neck had been bent at a disturbingly unnatural angle. He didn't move and didn't reply. If he'd been human, he surely would have been dead. Herbert bit his own wrist and held it against Angus' mouth. For a dreadfully long time, nothing happened. Then, all at once, Angus came awake. He grabbed hold of Herbert's arm and held it steady while he took a long drink. Then he released Herbert and sat up with eyes burning with fury. His neck was back to normal.

"What happened?" Herbert asked.

"That… that devil went and attacked me! I'll have his guts!" He jumped to his feet. "He started saying things about father and when I took offense, he struck me down!"

"Struck you down? He broke your neck. Are you alright?"

"Of course." Disgruntled and angry, Angus looked around. "He's gone, then?"

"I suppose he must be. Why stay? I was only out here to look for Alfred; I thought he might be visiting his Dusty."

At the stables, Angus and Herbert didn't find Alfred, but they did discover the horses behaving strangely. They were agitated and noisy. Buttercup had kicked a hole in the gate of his stall. If Buttercup or Heather had had more space in their stalls, they'd have jumped gates and been out. Even Alfred's little Dusty was leaning heavily on his gate, as if hoping to push it down with his weight.

Angus stood at the entrance of the stable and exchanged a look with Herbert. "This is bad. Your beast has a bad temper, but Heather is mild as a lamb. Takes a lot to upset her."

Herbert, as a vampire, had no real body heat and never really felt warm or cool, but as the magnitude of the situation hit him and he understood that Alfred hadn't left the castle willingly, he felt a terrible chill in his bones.

"Father's not going to be happy," Angus muttered.

"Neither am I." Herbert started to go to Buttercup to calm him, but stopped when he felt something underfoot. "Didn't you give this to Alfred?" He picked up Angus' long dirk and held it out.

Angus nodded, grimly. "He'd not just drop it and leave it laying around."

Herbert felt his rage growing. "It was Prince Radu! He took Alfred after he attacked you!"

"Yes," Angus grumbled. "We need to talk to father."

As predicted, Count Von Krolock wasn't pleased by the news of their wayward human. He listened in silence when Herbert and Angus reported what they knew, his face growing more ominous by the moment. Finally, he told Angus, "We do not know for certain that Prince Radu took our Alfred. It is possible that Alfred was upset enough by the evening's event that he went back to the village or simply went for a walk in the forest. If he disregarded my instructions to stay in his rooms, I will have to discipline him. Come!" Without waiting for either of his boys, the count strode down the hall and Herbert and Angus had to rush to keep up.

"Father," Herbert protested when he caught up with his father. "I should be looking for Alfred and we all know where to look! Alfred is too eager to please you; he wouldn't have just wandered away. That worm took him!"

Count Von Krolock stopped walking very abruptly. He turned around and wrapped his arms around Herbert in a tight embrace. "Calm down." He spoke very softly, but firmly enough to made Herbert at least try to relax. "We WILL find him. If we rush to Prince Radu's castle to attack and he does NOT have Alfred, we will have wasted a great deal of time. We must be certain."

"How?"

"Am I not a magician of the Dreamland? Just as you did on the night he arrived here, you will go dreamwalking with Alfred. You will get as much information as you can from him and, then, we will retrieve him."

Herbert smiled. "Yes, yes, of course!"

In Herbert's rooms, Herbert lay on his bed, silent. Angus stood at the door, impatient and angry and trying so hard to keep still while the count worked. Count Von Krolock leaned over Herbert, staring at his eyes, intently. Slowly, but with certainty, Herbert felt the tension and stress in his body melt away under the influence of his father's magic. It was just as they'd done the first night Alfred had slept in the castle and Herbert had slipped into his dreams to observe. Count Von Krolock wanted to know if Alfred was playacting the innocent or if he was a potential threat. Of course, he wasn't a threat.

The count set one hand lightly on Herbert's forehead and let the other rest on Herbert's chest, just over his heart. He stayed like that for a good long time until he finally began a low, whispered chant under his breath in a language Herbert couldn't understand.

Herbert had never really understood the count's magic, though he had accepted long ago that it was real. Herbert had seen enough to believe. Dreamwalking, the count had told Herbert, was a way to step into a person's dream. But the count couldn't do it, as he had to work the spell. So he needed Herbert or Angus to do the dreamwalking. The spell was always whispered so softly that Herbert couldn't hear a single word of it, but it worked and within only a few minutes Herbert was asleep.

…

…

…

There was a door.

It was a wooden door, the same one from the last time Herbert had entered Alfred's dreams. Expecting to find something similar to the last time he'd gone dreamwalking with Alfred, Herbert opened the door. The smell that seemed to explode out at Herbert was fetid and made him gag. He raised a hand to cover his mouth and nose before he stepped in.

He was in a large room. It was a dormitory, long and narrow, and filled with two rows of cots. The walls of the room were brick and two small windows, high up on one wall was the only source of light. The cots were small with thin, stained mattresses and no linens. Each cot had a blanket that had been folded into a small square and set at the foot of the cot. There were no pillows.

Hesitantly, Herbert began to slowly walk down the aisle between the two rows of cots. The filth was unbelievable; everything was covered in grime. The smell was overwhelming. He could see little shadows, rats, moving against the walls and he grimaced to see, on more than one bed, insects calmly moving around.

Someone was singing.

Herbert froze a moment to listen. It was a child's voice, sweet and high and clear as a bell. He followed the voice and, at the end of the room, between the brick wall and the last cot in one of the rows, he found the child.

A boy, perhaps seven years of age, sat on his knees while he scrubbed the floor with a large scrub-brush held in both hands. As Herbert watched, the boy dunked the brush in a pail of water, then resumed his scrubbing. His hands were red and chapped. Bent over as he was, Herbert could clearly see the boy's knobby spine even through his shirt. All the while that he worked, the boy kept singing. Herbert didn't recognize the song, but the boy's voice was angelic.

The boy was Alfred. Or, what Alfred had been as a child.

"Alfred?"

Little Alfred kept scrubbing.

Herbert had never imagined Alfred as a child and it struck him hard that what he saw was either a simple memory that had spun into a dream or… or he was seeing Alfred's true self. It was entirely possible that Alfred, despite being a young man, wasn't quite as grown-up as he appeared to be. Herbert knew then that his father was right – Alfred really did need a big brother.

"Alfred? Darling? Can you hear me?" Herbert squatted down and tried to catch Little Alfred's eye.

Little Alfred stopped singing. He moved his face just a fraction, just enough to look at Herbert. "I'm working."

"I can see that. Why don't you stop for a minute so we can talk?"

"I'll get in trouble." He was tiny, a half-starved mite with a mop of sand-colored hair and large brown eyes. He looked up at Herbert with a resigned expression, but no sign of recognition. Such a pitiful sight. His clothes were little more than rags hanging off him. He was thin and bony as a skeleton. He was dirty and smelled like he hadn't washed in months.

"You won't get in trouble. This isn't real. Think hard for a minute. This is a dream. You're sleeping and this is a dream. Do you remember me?"

Little Alfred bit his bottom lip. "Dreaming?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Very."

Little Alfred sat up and leveled a very serious look at Herbert. "I think… you should have pointy teeth. Right?"

Herbert smiled and allowed his fangs to descent.

To his surprise, Little Alfred smiled. "Very pointy! Your name is Herbert."

"Very good! Now," Herbert sat on the floor, forcing himself not to cringe at the idea of sitting on the dirty floor – it was just a dream, after all. "You've forgotten a few things and you need to try to remember. I want you to try to remember my big brother, Angus, and my father, Count Von Krolock. You live in father's castle with us. Do you remember any of that?"

Little Alfred paused and his face scrunched up as he thought. "I was very scared when I came to the castle."

"And you've been so brave about everything. You just need to be brave for a little longer. Do you remember Charlotte?"

Little Alfred began to breathe hard. The room – the dream – began to waver around them as Little Alfred grew more and more agitated. With a bit of concentration, Herbert pushed Alfred's dream just a little bit until they were sitting on the floor of Alfred's rooms at the castle. Little Alfred began to calm at once.

"You were fighting with Charlotte."

"That's right. I won that fight. She won't be back to hurt us, anymore."

Little Alfred nodded. "Yes. I saw you in the hall. You were all bloody." He took a deep breath. "I remember. I remember everything. I need to wake up! I shouldn't be sleeping now! It's dangerous, I need to wake up!"

"No!" Herbert picked Little Alfred up and sat him on his lap. "You're safe. Don't try to wake up. It's best to stay asleep, for now."

Little Alfred shook his head. "No. He's here. I don't want to be asleep around him. I have to wake up." He began to shake and cry. Little Alfred put a thumb to his mouth, but instead of chewing on his thumbnail, as Alfred was likely to do, he started sucking his thumb. "I wanna go home," he said around his thumb.

"And we want to take you home, but you got a little lost, I think. Can you show me where you are? You just have to think about it. Think very hard."

The room wavered, again, and shifted into a dark, cold room made of stone.

"I can't get out. And he's coming back. He chained me up and he hurts me."

Herbert hugged Little Alfred tightly, just as he'd remembered Angus once hugging him when Herbert had been a fledgling and had been upset by something. "We'll have you home very soon. We're coming to fetch you. So try to be brave and don't make your captor angry. Can you show me who took you?"

"I don't want to see him."

"Please?"

The door of the room ther were in was flung open. A shadowy figure stood in the doorway, an menacing shape that exuded evil until it nearly flooded the room. With a little tweak here and there, Herbert wasn't surprised to see that it was, indeed, Prince Radu.

"Alright," Herbert told Alfred. "That was all I needed. Let's take you somewhere nicer, now." He pushed at Alfred's dream and the cell was gone. Little Alfred was dressed in sturdy new clothes and he was as plump and well-fed as every child ought to be. They stood ankle deep in the sand of a beach. The ocean's waves lapped placidly at the beach and white gulls soared overhead. The sun, which Herbert dreamed of often, was bright and hot.

"It's beautiful," Little Alfred breathed.

"I thought you might like it." Herbert ruffled Alfred's hair and suddenly realized why Angus found doing it so appealing. "You stay here and play until you have to wake. Just remember – we are coming to take you home."

"You have my tie."

The statement was completely out of the blue. "Do I?"

"It's in your pocket."

…

…

…

And then, Herbert was awake.

His father and Angus were both leaning over him, anxiously waiting.

"I found him!" Herbert abruptly sat up. "He's with Prince Radu. He's somewhere dark and cold and damp. He's waiting for us."

"Dark and cold?" Angus said. "A dungeon, then. At his castle? I always knew it was a risk to live so close to another; our castle is only a few miles from the boarder of his territory." Angus' eyes sparking with that little light he always got when he could scent battle on the horizon. "Is he really stupid enough to have taken Alfred to his castle? He didn't even try to hide him?"

"He took my property," Count Von Krolock snarled. "YES! He is THAT brainless!" He spun around, his great cloak whirling around him. "Herbert, you will stay here and take care of your sisters. Angus, arm yourself."

Herbert jumped to his feet at the order to stay behind. He shouted, "Father! You can't leave me here! Let me..." His voice trailed away when the count turned around and fixed a hard stare on Herbert. Herbert lowered his eyes. "Forgive me."

The count gave a sharp nod, then turned and strode out of the room, his fury almost tangible.

Angus squeezed Herbert's arm and reassured him. "Don't press father on this. On my word of honor, we WILL bring Alfred home."

 **Alfred-**

Alfred woke slowly and unhappily. His dream, playing on a warm, sunny beach, letting the water lap around his bare ankles, had been so comfortable. His real childhood had never had such a wonderfully happy moment and to wake and find himself still in the dank cell was more than a little distressing. He tried very hard to hold onto the dream, to the beach and the salty air, to Herbert's reassurance and the hope that it had been more than a dream.

Hadn't Count Von Krolock told him, 'In the dreamland of night, I rule as a magician who makes miracles possible.' Maybe it was a miracle. Maybe they really were on their way to save him.

A sudden crash from somewhere overhead made Alfred jump. He looked up, but in the stark blackness of the cell, he couldn't even see the ceiling. There was another terrible crash and then another. He could faintly hear screams. The noise grew and grew… then stopped. All was silent.

The door of Alfred's cell crashed open and, silhouetted against light from the hall, a figure loomed in the doorway. It was just like before.

Alfred, his heart racing as he remembered Prince Radu's last visit to the cell, backed away much as the chain binding him to the floor would allow.

 **To be continued…**


	16. Temper Tantrum

**Chapter 16: Temper Tantrum**

 **Herbert-**

Herbert watched from the ramparts of the castle while his father and Angus left to rescue Alfred and felt entirely useless. He ought to be there when Alfred was freed. He wanted to be there and needed to be there, but… Angus was more experienced in such matters and Herbert knew well enough that the count was the only one of them who was old enough to stand up against Prince Radu. Someone had to stay behind with the girls and Herbert was the sensible choice for that chore.

"Not fair." No matter how sensible he tried to be, the injustice of being left behind gnawed at him. "It's not fair!" He was strong and smart and hadn't he proved that all with his battle with Charlotte? Maybe he couldn't stand against Prince Radu, but he could have been there for Alfred and take care of him while Angus fought just in case Prince Radu had any allies in his home.

He hated feeling helpless and that was exactly how he felt. That had been the whole point of becoming a vampire, so he never had to feel helpless, again.

The anger and frustration built the longer he stood there and thought about the whole situation. Suddenly, so angry that he felt ready to explode, Herbert turned and left the ramparts to go back down into the castle where he stomped through the halls for a while, but that did nothing to make him feel any better. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides while he stalked through the castle. He moved faster and faster until he was running. He leapt up and down stairways, but the anger didn't lessen. He ended up in the library.

He wanted to break something.

Minutes later, the library was a ruin. Books were thrown everywhere; one shelf had been broken into splinters. The count's favorite reading chair had been overturned and, to finish off his path of destruction, Herbert picked up the large globe that stood in the exact center of the room and furiously smashed it on the floor. Tiny pieces of the globe flew everywhere and Herbert, his fury finally abating, stood in the midst of the devastated library and felt no satisfaction at all.

"Maybe father's right," Herbert said to himself. He nudged a book on the floor with his toe. "Maybe I am a brat." He sighed. "Father's going to cane me for this."

With his anger finally spent, there were things Herbert had to take care of. Whether he felt like being responsible or not, the girls needed him. So he went down to the cellar and fetched two bottles of blood from where the count kept their emergency reserves. Even after so many bottles had been brought up for the guests at the ball, there were many, many bottles left. He took a quick run to the kitchen where he put a pot of water on the fire to boil and used that hot water to warm the bottled blood.

Koukol, who had been working in the kitchen, knew what had happened to Alfred. He always seemed to know everything that happened around the castle. He left Herbert in peace while the blood warmed, but when Herbert started to leave Koukol stopped him. In his broken, strained speech, he told Herbert that the others would be alright.

"I know they will!" Herbert insisted. "I can't imagine anyone on Earth being stronger than father and we all know what kind of a maniac Angus is. They'll be perfectly fine and they'll be home in a few hours and they'll bring Alfred with them because he's going to be fine, too. Everything and everyone will be fine even if I'm not there!"

Koukol told him that he WAS here and the count was trusting him to take care of the girls then went on to warn him to hold his temper because Koukol wasn't dealing with that nonsense and to clean up the library before the count returned 'or else'. He paused, and then said, "Alfred will return."

"But…"

"He is strong."

Herbert chuckled. "Well… I can't deny that he's a survivor. You're right, of course." Koukol was always right. "I'll go see to the girls, now."

He went first to the cell where Sarah was being kept.

It wasn't a pretty sight. She was raving, badly. Her hair was mess and fell around her face. Her fangs bared to the world as her instincts screamed at her to hunt. A low growl came from her, like an animal. Her eyes were half-closed and showed no signs of intelligence at all. She sat on the bare floor of the cell, her legs stretched out in front of her and her wrists chained to the wall. In her state, she had no sense of modesty and her dress had ridden right up to reveal her knees.

Herbert remembered his own time in a cell was sympathetic. "I'll bet this is worse than what you imagined, huh? I know I didn't think it would be so bad and he tried to warn me just like he warned you." Herbert closed the door behind him and approached slowly. "I know you can't really understand, yet, but it's time to feed. You'll like this. It's not as good as Alfred's blood, of course, but, honestly – what is?"

Naturally, Sarah didn't respond.

Sarah fought with the chains binding her to the wall, struggling with all her might to free herself. She violently kicked her feet and writhed as much as the chains would allow.

"Try not to get yourself worked up," Herbert calmly told her as he sat next to her. "I've brought you a little snack." He held up the bottled blood and gave it a little wiggle. "I'll go see Magda, next. You'd be worried for her if… you know… you were capable of thinking right now. Don't worry about that, though. You'll start settling, soon. A few months, maybe. But, for now, let's see if you'll take a bottle." Herbert pulled the cork out of the bottle. He put a hand behind Sarah's head to hold her steady while he raised the bottle to her mouth.

Sarah struggled, snapping her jaws at Herbert, until she appeared to smell the offered blood. She went very still for a moment, and then took a deep sniff. She let out a pitiful whine before she opened her mouth and waited, desperate for the blood. She reminded Herbert of a baby bird. Herbert raised the bottle to her lips and began to slowly pour the blood into her mouth. She guzzled the blood as fast as Herbert would feed it to her and while he tried to drag out the feeding she was, as expected, too hungry to be patient.

When the bottle was empty, Sarah wilted a bit. With the hunger momentarily sated, her eyes fluttered closed and she fell into a sleep that would undoubtedly be too short to be truly restful.

Herbert kissed her forehead. "Sleep well, little sister." He made sure to wipe her mouth clean, and then straightened out her dress. There wasn't much to be done about making her comfortable, but as Herbert couldn't recall the first weeks of his vampire life, he was fairly sure that Sarah was too hungry to be aware of whether or not she was comfortable or uncomfortable.

When he was sure Sarah wouldn't wake immediately, Herbert left her cell. He made sure to lock the door behind him just in case she managed to break the chains binding her. Then he took the second bottle of blood and went across the hall to Magda's cell.

While the effects of Alfred's blood hadn't worn off on Magda, yet, she was kept in one of the fledgling cells as a precaution. It wouldn't do for her to escape the castle if Herbert got distracted. It wouldn't be long before she started raving and would be in the same state as Sarah.

In the cell, he looked down at Magda, who sat on the floor with her legs crossed in front of her and a book of pictures on her lap. He was no real judge of female beauty, but he did think his newest little sister was a pretty, plump sort of girl. He had no right to call Magda 'sister', yet, but he was confident that was only a matter of time before his father fixed that minor issue with an adoption.

"I'm sorry it's dull in here," Herbert said when she looked up at him. "We just don't want you to hurt yourself if you start raving before I can get you chained up."

Magda looked up and shrugged. "It's alright. Is Sarah in any pain? I've been listening to her going on. She screams, sometimes, and it sounds like she's trying to pull those chains out of the wall."

"She's fine. Right now, her instincts are telling her to hunt and she can't do that so she's a little cranky. It's always the same in the beginning and nothing to worry about. You'll be doing the same, soon, but it doesn't hurt. I don't remember much of my time raving, to be honest. Sarah, and you, will start to be more aware of yourselves in a couple of weeks and then it's just a matter of learning to control the hunger." He held up the bottle of blood. "Care for a drink?"

"Blood?" Magda eyed the bottle Herbert had brought with him, warily. "I… I'm not thirsty."

"I know. But it's good for you." He sat next to her and uncorked the bottle by hand and took a swig before he held it out to Magda and waited, expectantly. "You need to get used to it."

Reluctantly, she took it. It took her two tries before she put the bottle to her lips and when she drank, she made a dreadful face and Herbert thought she might gag. Gamely, she swallowed. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."

"You will. It might take time, but you will. How are you feeling?"

"Depressed. Angry. Will that Prince come back to take me away?"

"No."

"He took Alfred. He took Alfred and he had no right to – I heard you say it! – and doesn't he have some claim on me if… if C-C- Charlotte belonged to him?" She stuttered over Charlotte's name. Clearly, she'd been thinking too much about her maker if it was hard to simply say her name.

"There are laws in our community of people and one of those laws dictates that a vampire belongs only to their maker. With Charlotte dead you are considered an orphan. Had you been made in Prince Radu's territory or with father's permission, then it would be quite logical for you to be fostered by Prince Radu. As things stand, father has every right to give you sanctuary and if you chose to stay here, he may adopt you. He'll take care of that once you've made it through the raving and you're able to think, again. Besides all that, as Prince Radu stole father's property, Alfred, father has every right to go retrieve him. Father and Angus will deal with Prince Radu and, very shortly, they'll come home. Now, I think you should be fine for a little longer if you'd like to go for a little walk." He waited until she drank a few more mouthfuls before he took her out of the cell.

They walked the halls and the overgrown gardens and he listened while she spoke about her betrothed. He had to admit the man sounded delicious. He took her to the ballroom and tried to teach her one of the new dances he'd picked up the last time he went to Vienna. When he returned her to her cell, he promised to return after she'd gotten some rest and he did urge her to rest. She would need it.

Outside Magda's cell Herbert sighed. It was so hard to be responsible, so hard to be the one 'in charge'. He didn't especially like it. He was hungry, too, and almost wished he'd tasted Alfred's blood before Alfred had been taken. It was so hard to restrain himself, so hard to be good for Alfred's sake when all he wanted to do was grab him and hold him and taste him. But then Herbert would remember Alfred's sweet face and how gently he smiled. He thought of how warm Alfred's hands had been when they'd danced together and being good for Alfred's sake wasn't so terribly hard, anymore.

" _You have my tie. It's in your pocket."_

Alfred's words from the dream they'd shared came back to Herbert very suddenly. Had it been some attempt to convey a subconscious message? Had it been nothing more than a twisted thought that meant nothing?

Herbert stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat. Of course they were empty. He tried the deep pockets on the inside of his cloak, but they, too, were empty. He couldn't get the thought out of his head. It plagued him so much that he went so far as to go to his rooms where the clothes he'd worn at the village, which Koukol had efficiently washed and dried and put away in Herbert's wardrobe. He found the coat he'd worn then and reached into the pockets. They should be empty, too, and the first one was. But the second pocket… he was shocked when he found something there.

Very carefully, he pulled out from that pocket Alfred's red tie that he'd worn around his throat. Herbert stared at the tie and felt strangely touched that Alfred had given it to him. It couldn't have ended up in his pocket by chance. It was a present!

With a squeal of delight, Herbert jumped up and down. He wanted the wave the tie like a banner, hang it from the highest tower to show off what he'd been given. Alfred, who had nothing, had given him a present. Herbert held the tie and rubbed it against his cheek.

"Mine, mine, mine," Herbert happily sang. "He gave it to me, and it's mine." He didn't care how childish he sounded. Herbert pulled the black ribbon out of his hair and used Alfred's red tie to tie back his hair at the nape of his neck. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to be able to use a mirror right now so I could see how splendid I look!" He patted the bow in his hair. "Never mind. Alfred will tell me how handsome I am when he gets back." That dampened his mood just a touch. He wanted them all home.

 **Alfred-**

Alfred felt horribly weak. Even after surviving the blizzard that had nearly killed both him and Professor Abronsius, Alfred hadn't felt so worn. He could hardly move, couldn't bring himself to even turn his head. He was tired. So very tired. Prince Radu had fed from him several times, but he couldn't remember how many. His memory was fuzzy.

A sudden crash from somewhere overhead made Alfred jump. He looked up, but in the stark blackness of the cell, he couldn't even see the ceiling. There was another terrible crash and then another. He could faintly hear screams. The noise grew and grew… then stopped. All was silent.

The door of Alfred's cell crashed open and, silhouetted against light from the hall, a figure loomed in the doorway. It was just like before.

Alfred, his heart racing as he remembered Prince Radu's last visit to the cell, backed away much as the chain binding him to the floor would allow. He couldn't lose more blood. He was sure he didn't have enough. If Prince Radu fed from him again before he recovered, it would be his death.

"And there's my little puppy. Time to go home, Alfred."

Angus.

"Tired."

"I know." Angus stepped into the cell and knelt down. In the darkness, his face was all but invisible, but just having him there was a comfort. "You try to relax, puppy. Father and I will have you home and tucked up safe in your own bed in no time. Can you stand?"

Alfred pulled at his feet which rattled the chains that bound him to the floor and caused Angus to look down at them.

"That's no trouble at all." Angus set his ax on the floor and took hold of the chain with both hands. It took no apparent effort at all for him to break the chain with his bare hands. With Alfred's feet freed, Angus tried to break the metal bands around Alfred's ankles, but they were too tight and he couldn't get his fingers between the metal and Alfred's skin. "I think this will have to wait a time. We'll get the village blacksmith to open these."

Alfred tried to stand, but his vision swam when he did. He felt sick. But still… "I can do it." He did stand, without help. He was very tired of feeling so weak.

"Just lean on me a bit, laddie. It'll make the walk quicker and I think we'd both like to be out of this place."

So, with Alfred leaning his weight against Angus, they slowly left the dungeons. The steep stairs were incredibly difficult to maneuver and it seemed to take an eternity to reach the top. Angus spoke about this and that as they walked, but Alfred had a hard time focusing long enough to pay attention. His throat still hurt and he wondered if the count could heal him like he'd done when Sarah had bitten him.

As they walked, Alfred licked his dry lips and croaked out, "Herbert?"

Angus chuckled. "Do you know how happy he'd be to know that you're asking for him? He's back home."

"He didn't come?"

"The girls are too vulnerable to be left alone. If nothing else, they need to be fed while they're raving and locked up. If it makes you feel better, he wasn't happy when father told him he couldn't come with us."

"Father's here?"

Alfred's brain skid to a screeching halt the instant the words left his mouth. Father. He'd called Count Von Krolock father? Just after Professor Abronsius had taken Alfred from the poor house, Alfred had asked if he might call the professor 'father'. Professor Abronsius hadn't been very happy with Alfred for asking. Slowly, Alfred turned his head and looked up at Angus. "Please… don't tell. I didn't mean it."

Angus kept them moving but gave Alfred a little squeeze. "Father wouldn't mind."

But it seemed very wrong. He'd had a father and, though he could hardly remember the man, he had loved Alfred. Alfred remembered that very well – he had been loved, once upon a time. What would his father think if he knew Alfred had called another man 'father'? Wasn't it bad enough that he called Madam Chagal 'Mama Rebecca'? At least she'd asked Alfred to call her that and he could pretend that he did it for her sake and not his own. Count Von Krolock had never asked for any such familiarity. It was true that the count had been remarkably kind to Alfred, but that didn't mean he wanted any such terms of endearment. The fact that the word had slipped out without any thought didn't lessen Alfred's embarrassment.

"Where is the count?" Just as Alfred spoke, there was another of those great crashes Alfred had heard earlier. This one sounded a great deal closer.

"Father is a bit busy. He's letting Prince Radu know what he thinks about the fact that you were spirited away."

There was another crash, so loud and close that it felt as if the castle itself shook on its foundation.

"Father," Angus said as soon as the noise stopped. "Is a bit peeved at the moment. You are, after all, under his protection. To think someone just stole you away… it's an insult. And all this was just because he was angry that father wouldn't give him Magda."

They'd found the door leading out to the courtyard and were a few yards away from the door when there was another crash. Both Alfred and Angus looked up just in time to see the count burst through the stone wall, bits of stone falling down with him. Angus grabbed Alfred and pulled him quickly out of harm's way. The count landed on the ground on his back with a terrible thump. A sword Alfred had never seen before was clutched in the count's hand and that grip hadn't slacked even after his hard landing.

Count Von Krolock jumped to his feet from where he'd landed and roared up at the hole in the castle wall he'd obviously been thrown through.

"Need some help, father?" Angus asked, mildly.

The count turned a furious snarl at Angus.

"Just asking."

With a mighty leap, the count bound nearly thirty feet up and back into the hole he'd come through.

The horses had been left waiting outside the castle gates and, there, Alfred and Angus waited for the count.

"Is he going to be alright?" Alfred asked. "What if…."

But just at that moment the count strode calmly out of the castle, though his clothes were rumpled and torn and his cloak hung unevenly off one shoulder. His sword, coated liberally with blood, was still in his hand, but he sheathed it in a scabbard at his hip before he reached them.

Without a word, the count went straight to Alfred and took Alfred's face in his hands. He looked closely at Alfred, peering at him as if he could see something in Alfred's face, and then turned Alfred's head to the side to look at the bite wounds Prince Radu had left.

"Savage animal!" The count hissed at what he saw. "He healed it enough to stave off death, but not enough to prevent pain!" Then he clamped his mouth on Alfred's throat and Alfred stood as quietly as he could and didn't object or fight when he felt the count's tongue licking at his throat. As before, the pain quickly faded and Alfred was so very thankful that he found himself slumping against the count's chest and he let out a sigh of utter relief.

"Can we go home, now?"

"Soon."

Alfred's heart sank. "But… why not now?"

"The night grows short. We have to take shelter here for the day."

Alfred felt sick.

"The sun," Count Von Krolock continued. "Will rise before long. Angus and I can't travel in the sunlight and I don't want you traveling alone, especially in your condition." The count put both hands on Alfred's shoulders and leaned down to look him right in the eyes. "This place is safe, now. No one can hurt you."

"Where is Prince Radu?" Alfred had to ask, though he had a strong suspicion considering the blood on the count's sword.

"I killed him. He can never hurt you, again. The castle is empty but for us. We must stay here for the day and as soon as night has fallen, we will go home. We will not stay here a minute longer than necessary. I promise."

"Yes, sir." There was no choice. Alfred knew he shouldn't travel alone, even if he knew how to get home. He was so tired and he kept getting dizzy. His hands were trembling. He probably couldn't have stayed on a horse if they'd put him on one.

They settled the horses in the stables – disused as Prince Radu apparently didn't keep horses – then went in search of a place to sleep. Much like the count's castle, they found a crypt with several coffins in it. Presumably, they were the resting places of Prince Radu and Charlotte.

Count Von Krolock and Angus thoroughly inspected the coffins as well as the walls of the crypt for any little crack that sunlight might slip through. "This will do," the count pronounced, at last.

Angus agreed with a wide yawn. He wished them both a good sleep before he crawled into a coffin and pulled the lid closed over him.

It left Alfred and the count alone.

Alfred wrung his hands. He really didn't want to stay in Prince Radu's castle. Despite the count's promise that Prince Radu was dead, he couldn't help the awful fear that being in the castle caused. He wanted to get out. He wanted to run as far from the castle as possible. Alfred just knew that if he stayed in the castle he would have nightmares. He wouldn't be able to help it. As he was trying to think of an excuse that would get him out of the castle, even if it meant sleeping with the horses in the stable (he had slept in far worse places) the count said,

"You will sleep with me today."

"W-what?"

The count motioned to the now open coffin that he intended to sleep in. "It is big and you are small. There will be plenty of room." He put a hand on top of Alfred's head. "You must remember, we only just regained you. I feared you might be dead before we could reach you and when I finally found you, you look about two breaths away from death. You will have to forgive me for wanting to keep you close."

"But… I just…" Sleeping with the count was awkward just to think about. Of course, he reasoned, he'd woken up with the count in his bed before and nothing bad had happened. In fact, he found that he didn't have any evil thoughts about the count at all. While just being near Herbert was enough to have Alfred's thoughts run in many naughty directions, Alfred didn't feel anything like that for the count. Rather, the count was big and strong and – somehow – safe. So it would be awkward, but, he found that he did trust the count. So he nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Are you frightened of staying in this castle?"

Alfred shrugged. "You said it's safe – I believe you."

"I'm glad. But perhaps I can help you sleep more easily. Get in."

Obediently, Alfred climbed into the coffin and lay down. Rather than climbing in after him, the count took off his cloak and spread it over Alfred, like a blanket. "I will leave the coffin open so you do not need to feel trapped," the count told him. When he was sure Alfred was well covered, the count leaned over and put one hand on Alfred's forehead and his other hand over Alfred's heart. "Breathe deeply, Alfred. Close your eyes and think of somewhere you would like to be. Somewhere that is calm and somewhere you are happy."

And, just like that, Alfred was in his room at Count Von Krolock's castle. He was vaguely aware that he was dreaming, but it was such a nice dream. He was sitting on his bed, reading. He understood all the words in the book and he was so proud of himself. Herbert, where he reclined on the bed next to Alfred, listened while Alfred read. They sat like that in Alfred's dream, doing nothing but relaxing in each other's company.

And then Alfred was being woken.

The count and Angus stood over him, waiting for Alfred to get up. As soon as Alfred sat up, he blinked up at the count, rubbed his eyes, and then asked, "Is it time to go home, now?"

"Yes." Count Von Krolock smiled. "It's time to go home."

The ride home didn't go quickly enough though the horses, Heather and the count's horse, Vasile, ran like the wind. They were back at the castle long before dawn and, when they entered the castle, Herbert came tearing down the hall to meet them. He hugged his father and brother and seemed as if he wanted to do the same to Alfred, but refrained for a whole of a few seconds before the effort became too much and Alfred, too, got a hug.

"I'm so happy you're safe!" Herbert cried. "I wanted to come get you; you know that, don't you? The girls had to be taken care of so I had to stay here, but I really did want to come get you. Are you hurt? Did that cretin touch you?" He began to circle around Alfred, looking him up and down as if he could see injuries through Alfred's clothes. "You look exhausted, poor thing! Oh, father, do tell me you killed that worm!"

"Prince Radu is well and truly dead," the count assured Herbert. "There is nothing to worry about. And as a little bonus, my territory now includes his. How are the girls?"

"They're very well. I let Magda look at a book from the library… oh." Herbert's eyes went comically wide. "I don't think… really, I mean… I just remembered something." He looked around with a strange sort of desperation. "Why don't you put Alfred to bed, father? Take your time." And he hurried off.

The moment Herbert was out of sight, the count raised an eyebrow at Angus. "See that Alfred is put to bed and ask Koukol to bring him food and water. I have a feeling there is something Herbert doesn't want me to see and that, of course, makes me want to see it." He walked off in the direction Herbert had gone.

"What could Herbert have that he doesn't want to the count to see?" Alfred asked Angus.

"I'm afraid to think about. He's a bit of a wild lad, you know? He might have brought a whole litter of wolf pups in to play with or he might have painted dirty pictures on the armory wall. I'm sure he'll tell you if you ask. Now, off to bed for you."

Alfred sighed. He seemed to be spending a lot of time in bed since coming to the count's castle. "How long do you think I'll have to stay there?"

"Not long if you make sure you eat and drink and sleep. If you don't want to be confined to bed, stop getting hurt." Angus told him, completely without sympathy. "For now, you're in bed until father thinks you're well."

They'd only just started up the stairs when Count Von Krolock's furious voice roared out, echoing through the castle, "Herbert! My library!"

 **To be continued…**


	17. Alfred's Christmas

**Chapter 17: Alfred's Christmas**

Alfred woke with cry and a nightmare plaguing his mind. It faded almost at once. It wasn't the first nightmare he'd had since his rescue from Prince Radu's dungeon cell. He sat in his warm bed, trembling from the vanishing memory of the nightmare.

"I'll be just fine," Alfred told himself. "I will be alright." Sometimes that seemed to be his mantra – I will be fine. I will survive. I will live through this. Because, really… what else could he do? Life was hard.

Weeks had passed since Alfred's rescue from Prince Radu's clutches and life began to settle. He had been allowed out of bed three days after his rescue though Count Von Krolock had allowed him to do little else other than lessons.

Herbert, Alfred had learned, had been punished for making a mess out of the count's library. Shortly after that punishment, Herbert had gone to visit Alfred in his rooms. He'd told Alfred, "Father wanted to make sure I understand it isn't a good idea to have a tantrum that involves his library or his one-of-a-kind, hand-painted, antique globe." He'd rubbed his backside and looked pained. "Do forgive me for not sitting." Herbert hadn't wanted to talk about exactly what his punishment had been, but he had spent several nights putting the library back to rights. Alfred had also heard from Angus that Herbert was being made to replace a broken globe, but that would have to wait until spring when the weather made travel easier.

Herbert wore Alfred's tie as a hair ribbon.

That still made Alfred smile every time he saw Herbert. They didn't speak of it, but Herbert would always have that tie in his hair, a great floppy bow that hung down his back and didn't look nearly so dignified as his black hair ribbon had. He'd seemed immensely proud of his new accessory.

As he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep after such a nightmare, Alfred lit a candle and dressed himself. He'd finally figured out how to get his braces done up without help. Once dressed, he left his rooms and the sight of sunlight shining in through the open windows in the hall told him that the sun had just risen.

Perfect.

He had a plan that required an absence of vampires.

And so it was that on a relatively warm December afternoon, Alfred walked down to the village. He hadn't been forbidden to and the count had told him that he didn't have to stay at the castle, so he wasn't really breaking any rules, though he was reasonably certain the count would not appreciate Alfred taking such a long walk alone.

For the long walk, Alfred wore his new boots - tough leather boots that were of a finer quality than anything else he'd ever owned. Alfred had, in fact, worn those boots for three days straight; he had been so delighted when the cobbler had them delivered to the castle. His clothes, the clothes that Count Von Krolock deemed too worn to be of any use, had been left back at the castle and he wore his new clothes that had been donated by some kindly soul in the village - brown trousers with a loose-fitting blue shirt. They were quite plain, but sturdy and very warm, especially with the cloak draped over him. Like everything else he had, the cloak had been a gift. The count had dug through disused rooms and storage chambers until he'd found something suitable – a green cloak that tied around the throat. Alfred was so very proud of what a splendid figure he cut that he almost felt like he was parading when he walked into the village.

"What are you doing here all alone and so early in the day?" Mama Rebecca asked as soon as Alfred walked in the front door of the inn. She planted her fists on her hips. "Does His Excellency know you're down here, young man?"

"Well… he said I didn't have to stay at the castle," Alfred tried to slip around the question without an actual lie. "And I've only come for a little while. I wanted to see you. I was very careful."

"You walked all the way? Where's your pony?"

"Dusty is a horse. And I don't know how to ride, yet. Herbert said he'll teach me as soon as my arm is altogether healed. I think it feels much better!" He held it out for inspection. "I think the splint could come off today, don't you?" He said, hopefully.

"You wait another week and then come back and I'll take a look at it." Then she opened her arms. "Don't I get a hug?"

Alfred went straight to her and gave her a bashful hug. "Are you well? Do you need anything?"

"Oh, I'm doing well enough, my boy. I've taken on one of the village lads to help out and the baker's girl wanted a chance to work, so she's taken Magda's position. I think we'll be alright. So, what brings you down here?"

"I had a favor to ask." Alfred looked down at his toes and suddenly felt shy, though there was nothing about Mama Rebecca that made him comfortable, anymore. She was as warm and loving as any human could possibly be. "Christmas is coming."

"Ah, yes, tomorrow." Her eyes lit up. "Of course, I'm not Christian, but most of the villagers are and it does no harm for everyone to have fun together. After the church services, I'll have mulled wine and a fat goose to serve up. There's always a lot of singing here and stories." She gave him a fond smile. "Would you like to come? I know the nobles up there aren't much for this holiday, but you would be very welcome at my table."

He'd never been invited for a Christmas dinner before. He'd never had a Christmas before. "Oh, thank you! I will have to ask His Excellency, but I think he'll let me come." He fairly glowed with the happiness and wondered if he should bring a gift. Didn't people do that when they went visiting? And it seemed that at Christmas one ought to bring something special. He'd never gone visiting – not as a proper guest. If it were summer, he'd have brought her flowers, but there was no hope for that. He would ask Herbert. Herbert seemed like the type who would often be invited to other people's homes and he would know what Alfred should bring. "It was Christmas I wanted to talk to you about. Ummm… first," he pulled the drawing book Koukol had given him out of his bag and took one of his drawings out of it. He nervously handed it to Mama Rebecca. "Merry Christmas."

"Why, thank you, dear. How nice…" Her voice trailed away when she looked at the drawing Alfred had done for her. Her face went so still that he thought he'd made a mistake in giving it to her. When she started to cry, he felt miserable. Then, she said, "Oh, Alfred! It's beautiful!" She set the drawing of Sarah on the table in front of her and smoothed out the paper. He'd drawn Sarah as she'd looked on that night when he'd woken one night to find all three vampires in bed with him and Sarah had smiled at him so sweetly. As Herbert had warned Alfred that no one must know about vampires (though everyone in the village did know and simply wouldn't admit to it), he hadn't drawn Sarah's fangs. "I've never had a picture of her." She laughed a little and wiped her face with her apron.

"Do you like it?"

"I couldn't ask for any better gift! Now, she may not be here, but now I can see her. I'll have to find somewhere to hang it."

"I'm glad you like it. I don't know if they celebrate at the castle but I was hoping to do something nice for them. They'd been very good to me."

"Well, that's very sweet of you. What's the trouble? Are you afraid they won't like your gifts?"

Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not real gifts, you see. I haven't any money to buy anything. But I thought I could do something for them." He bit his lip and looked at her with worry. "Do you think that's silly?"

"I think it's an excellent idea! Silly, indeed! Whatever would give you such a notion? You just look around at our little village; we don't have a great large market, so most everyone gives little home-make things or does a kindness." She looked at the drawing of her daughter. "And this picture is absolutely perfect and didn't cost you any money at all."

Alfred let out a sigh and smiled. "I'm so glad you think so! Do you think… if it's not too much trouble… could you help? You wouldn't have to do much of anything, but I was having trouble thinking of something to do for Angus. If you would have a few minute to sit for me, I could draw your portrait and give it to him. I think he'd really like that." Alfred faltered when Mama Rebecca started to blush wildly. She seemed to do that a lot when the subject of Angus came up in conversation. "If it's not a good idea, I'll think of something else. You don't have to do it."

"No, dear. It's a lovely idea – if you really think he'd like it."

"Oh, yes. He likes you very much and I can't think of anything he'd like better."

They sat together at one of the inn's tables while Alfred drew. He opened the little book of blank pages Koukol had given him long ago when Alfred had been stuck in bed and found an empty page to draw on. He used a charcoal stick to draw with. The portrait was not very realistic looking and he was sure he didn't do a very good job, but it was the best he could manage and, when he'd finished, he quite liked it.

He carefully closed the book and held it with his good hand before he thanked Mama Rebecca for her time. "Before I go, may I ask one more favor?"

"Certainly."

"Will you show me how to braid hair?"

Later, Alfred was halfway up to the castle, thinking of the other gifts he wanted to give for Christmas, when something caught his eye and make him pause.

It was small, only about two feet tall, and a bit scraggly-looking. But something about it was perfect. Alfred knelt down next to the little pine tree. He'd never had a Christmas. As a street orphan, Christmas had been impossible. At the poor house, Christmas was only marked by a Christmas morning sermon that seemed aimed at reminding all of the inmates how lucky they were to be at the poor house. Professor Abronsius had no use for Christmas and didn't see the point in spending money on things like gifts, excessive food, or useless decorations. But Alfred had seen such frivolous decorations when he'd followed the professor through the cities. He'd seen the windows of the toy maker's shops and the wondrous things they crafted: china dolls with satin dresses and blonde curls, brightly painted wooden trains, tin soldiers, stuffed animals, balls, kites, and dozens of other magnificent things. As a child he'd never had a hope of even holding a toy sailing ship and at fourteen, when he trailed after Professor Abronsius, he'd thought he must surely be too old to want such things – though he did still find himself stealing glances into toy shops to admire a marionette or a set of clay circus animals.

But a Christmas tree… oh, how he'd always loved those! He would see them in the windows of people's homes as they walked by, all decorated with little ornaments. They were so beautiful. He didn't need any presents at all, but he had always desperately wanted a Christmas tree.

Count Von Krolock didn't believe in God, but surely he wouldn't be angry if Alfred had just a little Christmas tree, would he? Alfred could keep it out of view and no one would have to see it but him.

Decision made, Alfred used the knife Angus had given him to cut down the little pine tree. He happily carried it back to the castle and, as it was well before dusk, he met no one while he went to his rooms. Of course the little tree wouldn't stand on its own, but he found that if he leaned it in a corner of the room and put one of his shoes against the tiny trunk, it would stay upright. He had no decorations but a quick look around and he found some. He took the laces out of his shoes and draped them on the little tree like a garland. Then he cut the buttons off his coat that the count had said was not fit to be worn and used bits of thread to hang them off the tree. When he was finished, Alfred sat in front of his little tree and admired it. With the fire from the fireplace throwing light on it, he decided that his tree was the prettiest Christmas tree ever.

But there was no time for idleness. Alfred needed to start his gift for the count. He went to the library.

Herbert had picked up everything in the library he'd thrown around and cleaned up the broken pieces of the globe, but the room was still remarkably dusty. Alfred begged a duster from Koukol and then set about with his plan. He spent hours that day dusting the books, the bookshelves, the little table that sat next to the count's chair, and the count's writing desk. He even snuck the broom out of the kitchen and swept the floor. When finished, the library was neat and tidy as anyone could wish. He was sure the count would be pleased.

Alfred quickly went to Angus' room. It was empty, of course, being still daytime, and easy enough for him to leave his portrait of Mama Rebecca for Angus to find. He left the picture on Angus' bed and wished he'd had a frame for it. Still, wishes were worthless, as he'd long ago learned. He would just have to hope that Angus would be happy with the picture as it was.

Once finished, Alfred moved on to Herbert's gift. He couldn't give Herbert the beautiful clothes or jewelry that he thought Hebert might really want, but there was one thing he could imagine that Herbert would appreciate. That idea led him down to the stables where he gave an apple to Dusty before he moved to stand in front of Buttercup's stall. There was no one around and he had perhaps two hours before the sun set. Buttercup was as terrifying as ever, especially as Alfred was alone.

Gingerly, he held out an apple on the palm of his hand for Buttercup. The horse appeared to think about it for a minute, before he condescended to take the apple. While he was chewing, Alfred worked up his courage and went into Buttercup's stall.

"I don't know if you understand, but this is important. It's for Herbert."

Buttercup's ears twitched at the sound of Herbert's name.

"I know he loves you very much," Alfred continued. "So this will make him very happy, if you'll only hold still for a little while."

He found an empty crate and put it next to Buttercup, then climbed up and stood on it. It brought him to just the right height to reach Buttercup's mane. For more than an hour, Alfred stood at Buttercup's side and brushed his long white mane. Then he set the brush aside and looked around to be sure no one was around. Once assured that he wasn't been watched, Alfred carefully took his arm out of its sling. While it did still ache a little, he could use his fingers and it didn't really hurt very much. It was probably safe to use his hand for a few minutes. He slowly and carefully twisted Buttercup's mane into dozens of little braids, just like Mama Rebecca had taught him. They weren't as perfect as he might have liked - some were too big and clunky and some were very crooked - but when Alfred was done, Buttercup seemed pleased with his braids and swished his head back and forth to make the braids fly around. Each braid was tied off with a little piece of twine, but Alfred also produced a handful of little red strips of fabric he'd cut from the coat the count didn't want him to wear any longer. He used those strips to tie a little red bow on the end of each one of Buttercup's braids. It was a look Alfred knew that not many men would want for their horses, but he was fairly confident that Hebert would like it.

His last gift was… difficult. Sarah and Magda could not understand anything but the hunger, according to Count Von Krolock. They wouldn't understand if he tried to give them something while they were raging and wouldn't remember it when they stopped raging. All the same, he just couldn't leave them out on Christmas. So he went to the hall where they were kept in their cells. He could hear them yelling and growling and the racket was terrible. All he could imagine was that they must have been in awful pain to make such noises.

With nothing better to give them, Alfred sang. As he sang, the terrible noises from the girls faded into nothing. He felt like he sat there for a long while, singing, and the whole time he was there, the girls were quiet. It wasn't until his throat started to hurt that Alfred stopped and, when he did, the girl's noise started up, again, as if they were protesting his silence.

"That was miraculous."

Alfred stood up at the voice and turned to find Herbert standing behind him. "What was?"

"They were comforted by your song. I've never heard of anything that could ease this suffering they're going through. I suppose no one ever tried singing to baby vampires. I saw Buttercup, sweetheart. I don't think he's ever looked so splendid. Thank you. Father's worried that because you cleaned the whole library on your own and might have hurt yourself so soon after your ordeal. Angus was so pleased with the picture you left for him that he went straight down to the village to see Madam Chagal. They were very thoughtful gifts."

Alfred swallowed hard and did something he'd wanted to do for quite some time. He reached over and took Herbert's hand. He gave that hand a tight squeeze and whispered, "Merry Christmas, Herbert." Then he swallowed hard and stood on his toes to press a quick kiss to Herbert's cheek. Overwhelmed with his boldness, Alfred turn on his heel and ran.

 **Herbert-**

Herbert, stunned into silence, lifted a hand to his cheek and smiled.

 **To be continued…**


	18. The Return

**Chapter 18: The Return**

Alfred was in the closet.

He would have hidden under the bed he'd used to hide from Charlotte that first terrible time he'd run into her, but he couldn't find that room and settled for hiding in the closet in his rooms. The closet was nearly empty but for a few pieces of donated clothes that had been sent up by the good people of the village and Alfred's beloved pair of new boots. He liked being in the closet. It was dark and small and it made him feel safe, like he could think.

He'd kissed Herbert.

He'd kissed Herbert and it had been his idea, not Herbert's. He'd stolen a kiss. He hadn't been forced, or tricked… Herbert hadn't even asked for a kiss! No, there was no one to blame but himself.

Alfred groaned and rested his head on his crossed arms. "Oh…what am I going to do?"

"Alfred,"

Alfred wasn't entirely surprised to hear Count Von Krolock's voice. "Yes, sir?"

"Do you plan on coming out of the closet any time soon?"

"No, sir."

"Very well." The closet door opened and let in lantern light from the lantern the count carried. He looked down at Alfred with a faintly amused expression. "May I ask what has caused your distress?"

"I'm alright."

The count let out that long-suffering sigh as he often did when he was being very patient with someone. In a graceful move, Count Von Krolock lowered himself and sat on the floor in front of the closet. He sat with his legs stretched out in front of him and his ankles crossed. "Alfred. Truth, now, if you please."

And he couldn't refuse. "I just wanted to think for a bit and… well… it's quiet in here."

"In this whole castle you couldn't find anywhere else quiet?" He folded his hands on his lap and looked directly at Alfred, giving him all his attention. "Tell me what has gotten you so very upset? Have you been hurt again? Should I tie you to your bed to keep you out of trouble?"

Alfred shook his head, miserably. It was with his face lowered and in a hushed voice that he confessed, "I kissed Herbert."

"Well… I can't imagine he complained."

"No. I didn't give him time. I ran away."

"Really?"

"But I didn't plan to do it… not really. We were standing together and it's Christmas and I just wanted to give him something he'd like so…"

"So you kissed him?"

Alfred bit his lip and looked up at the count from the corner of his eye. "Yes, but… I sort of wanted to kiss him, too. But now Herbert will want **'MORE'** and he'll think I want **'MORE'** and I don't even really know what **'MORE'** is! I don't know any of that stuff and he's going to think I want to do all that, too, and I can't refuse now because I started it this time and I don't know what to do!" Alfred curled himself down until his forehead touched his knees. "He's going to hate me and he'll yell at me." Alfred moaned in his despair. "I hate being yelled at." The idea of Herbert yelling at him made Alfred feel sick.

And then Alfred was out of the closet.

It had happened so quickly that Alfred hard hardly noticed it happening – one minute he was in the closet and then the next he was out of the closet and it was Herbert who'd done it. He'd leaned over the count and pulled Alfred right out, passed the count and held him by both arms. "Alfred… how could you think - ?!"

But Alfred wasn't ready to confront Herbert and started squirming and twisting, trying to free himself. Herbert's grip was so firm there was no chance of fighting his way free.

"Herbert!" Count Von Krolock said. "Let him go!"

"But, father… he thinks - !"

Count Von Krolock was on his feet, then, and gave Hebert a smack on the backside which caused Herbert to release Alfred and clap his hands to his rump. "You heard me! Now, get dressed for dinner and we will meet you down there. Go!" He snapped the last when Herbert didn't move fast enough for his taste.

Herbert did release Alfred, but he took a moment to sincerely tell him, "I'm sorry I grabbed you. I didn't mean to. But I wouldn't yell at you." Then he hurried out of the room.

The moment he was released, Alfred wanted to dive back into his hiding place, but he stood there, frozen, his eyes on his toes. "See? He's angry."

"He's not angry with you."

"He grabbed me and he could hardly talk. He heard me say I didn't want to do **'MORE'** and he's angry."

Again, that long-suffering sigh. "Do I ever lie to you, Alfred?"

Alfred shook his head and slowly looked up.

"Then please believe me now – Herbert is not angry with you."

The count took hold of Alfred's wrist and drew him to the bed. He sat and pulled Alfred down, too, and then Alfred was sitting on the count's lap like a child sitting on his papa's lap. It was embarrassing; he couldn't possibly feel any smaller… but the count gave him a gentle hug and it felt good so he didn't try to move. "You don't have to hold me, sir."

"All little children deserve love and affection."

"I thought you said I was a pet."

"Pets need love an affection, too. Now," Count Von Krolock interrupted as if Alfred hadn't spoken. "First off, yes, you can refuse Herbert's advances. He's old enough to behave with good manners and his skin is thick enough to take a rebuke. He WILL respect your wishes. I would also like you to keep in mind that Herbert is from France where is it quite common for men to kiss on the cheeks when greeting one-another."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You didn't have to hit him, did you?"

"That was barely an attention-getter. He knows better than to go around manhandling people." He gave Alfred's back a rub. "Now, I think it's time for you to eat and start your music lessons."

"But," Alfred looked at his arm in its sling. "Can I play like this?"

"I have just come from the village. That's why I came looking for you. Madam Chagal has assured me that the splint may come off shortly, though you will have to use the sling for some time more. In the meanwhile, you will have to learn to read music."

"But I don't read words so well. How do I read music?"

"With practice. Before your lessons, but after you eat, I would like a taste of your blood. And Angus may appreciate a taste as well."

"Yes. Of course, sir. Umm… what about Herbert?"

"He is still being stubborn."

Alfred was getting used to the idea of being the main meal of vampires. He wasn't a bit afraid when he followed Count Von Krolock down to the dining room. Herbert and Angus were waiting, each with a full place setting in front of them at the dining table, though there was no food. A third empty place setting waited for the count while a fourth and fifth, complete with plates of food, waited for Alfred and Koukol. Everyone rose when the count and Alfred walked in and waited politely for everyone to sit. While Alfred and Koukol ate, fish and turnips and with a glass of wine for Koukol and a glass of milk for Alfred, the vampires made civil conversation. The food had been brought up from the village, as most of their food was, though Koukol prepared it for them. Herbert didn't mention what he'd overheard in Alfred's rooms.

"In other upper-class homes," Count Von Krolock mentioned. "Koukol would not be permitted to eat with the family as he is, technically, a servant. We are, of course, a little more relaxed with such customs, but if you happen to go into society at some point, you should bear in mind that servants are not accustomed to eating with the family."

"I'm glad you eat here," Alfred told Koukol. "It's better with everyone together. Oh, I have a Christmas gift for you, Mister Koukol. If you'll let me take your measurements I want to make you a new shirt." It wasn't a terribly interesting gift, but Koukol's clothes were awfully tattered and it had occurred to Alfred that it must have been hard for Koukol to get clothes that fit him well as he had such an awful hunched back. The villagers had kindly given Alfred several shirts and he could take two and alter them to make one shirt that would fit Koukol, he was he sure.

Koukol dropped his fork at Alfred's words before he croaked out, "Thank you.""

And so their meal went until the plates were cleaned and Koukol cleared them away. Alfred started to help, but Koukol waved him away and the count reminded Alfred that he had other tasks to take care of.

They retired to the sitting room. The sitting room was a small room comfortably furnished with sofas, high-backed chairs, plush rugs, art and a roaring fire. It was warm and bright and very calm. Alfred sat where the count indicated, in the middle of the largest sofa. Angus sat on one side of him while the count sat on his other side. Herbert, still stubborn as the count said, kept himself on the other side of the room and flipped through the pages of a book with his back to them.

Count Von Krolock put an arm around Alfred's shoulder and held him close to his side before he pierced one of Alfred's fingers with his fang, just as he'd done before. He gave that little wound a lick and then was satisfied. It was quick and easy, but his mind couldn't help flashing momentarily to the abject horror he'd experienced when Prince Radu had fed from him. Alfred held out his bloody finger to Angus. Angus wiped his thumb across the little wound and then lapped the blood off his own thumb. The look on his face was astounding and it made Alfred all the more aware that Angus had never tasted his blood.

Angus closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the back of the sofa. A blissful smile sat on his face. "Oh, Alfred, bonnie boy, you are a treasure. That is… I have no words."

"An occasion to note, then," Count Von Krolock dryly said.

"Well, now that's over," Herbert finally turned away and stood with his fists on his hips. "Alfred needs to brush out Dusty and the bedding needs changing. So, if you'll excuse us…"

"Not so fast," Count Von Krolock put a hand on Alfred's shoulder to stop him from standing. "Alfred may see to his pony - "

"Dusty is a horse."

"Horse, then, but he must return quickly as he has music lessons tonight and history." History meant that the count would give a lecture and Alfred would be expected to listen carefully and answer questions at the end. No reading was necessary, which was good as Alfred's reading wasn't up to the task of reading the history books in Count Von Krolock's library. One day, the count would expect Alfred to read those books, but not for some time as he'd only just started learning to read Romanian. "And," the count continued, "I need to talk to the two of you. Sit down, Herbert."

"This sounds bad," Herbert frowned, though he did sit in one of the arm chairs.

"No. It's not bad, but it is important. I wanted to let the two of you know that Angus and I will be leaving for a time."

Alfred looked at Angus and then at the count with alarm. "You're leaving? Why? Where are you going? You are coming back, aren't you?"

"We are coming back, have no fear," Count Von Krolock patted Alfred on the head. "However, our trips will last some time and I don't expect us to return for quite some time, perhaps a few months. If it should look like it will take longer than that, I will send word. Angus will be going to Germany."

Alfred perked up at that and looked at Angus. "You're going to find the professor! And you'll stop him from telling people about vampires?"

"Yes. One way or the other." Angus was entirely composed. He didn't show a hint of emotion. "It may take me some time, but father and I have be discussing it for a few nights now and that problem must be dealt with. Father showed me what your professor looks like and gave me the address of his home in Germany. I'll find him."

Alfred licked his lips. "When you find him, will you give him my regards? Just tell him I'm alright. Ummm… in case he's… worried about me."

Herbert snorted.

"He might be worried." Alfred insisted. He looked back at Angus. "If he asks about me, will you tell him?"

"I promise, if he asks after you, I will tell him that you are healthy and happy and living under father's protection."

Herbert asked, "And where are you going, father?"

"I have business in Rome."

The room fell silent and Alfred looked around in puzzlement at the ominous atmosphere that had sudden befallen everyone. "What's in Rome?"

"The Inquisitor." Herbert was on his feet. "I should go, too."

"No," Count Von Krolock raised a hand to stop Herbert from arguing. "This is my place, my responsibility. I have put it off long enough. I won't have her come here to investigate when I can easily make the journey." He looked at Alfred. "You have heard us say that out people have laws. Not as many as human society has, but we do have laws. One of those laws is that the death of one of our own must be justified. Rather than have the Inquisitor come here to do her investigation, I prefer to go to her. I will inform the Inquisitor of my reasons for killing a Prince Radu and Charlotte."

Alfred had never heard any of them mention an Inquisitor before, but he guessed that she must be terrible to have all of them so worried.

"I killed Charlotte," Herbert reminded his father.

"And I am responsible for your actions. No arguing. Alfred, while I am gone, you will stay at the castle. Do not go down to the village without Herbert and, during the day, do not leave the courtyard. You have had enough trouble for any one life. Don't look for more when I am gone and can't help."

Herbert pouted. "I'll take care of him, father."

"I don't want YOU getting in any more trouble, either. I've had enough of you getting attacked and spending the day outside with nothing but a thin cloak to shield you! Just take care of each other and Angus and I will return as soon as our errands are finished. Alfred, go help take care of your Dusty and then go immediately to the music room. I will meet you there."

"Yes, sir."

Alfred and Herbert walked to the stables and while Alfred had expected Herbert to say something about the scene in Alfred's bedroom, Herbert didn't mention it. Alfred brushed Dusty and Herbert took care of Buttercup and all the while Herbert didn't say a word about what he'd obviously overheard Alfred say when he was talking to Count Von Krolock. Buttercup rejoiced in the attention and nuzzled against Herbert like a giant, vicious, cat. Herbert even took time to run his hands over the braids Alfred had tied in Buttercup's braids and tighten a few of the bows that started to come loose.

"Do you want braids, too?" Alfred whispered to Dusty. He smiled when Dusty rested his head against Alfred's chest and snorted, blissfully. "You're right. You look better all shaggy."

They spent a long while taking care of the horses, though Herbert took over when it came time to put fresh bedding down for Dusty and he took care of feeding all the animals. All the time they were down there, Alfred kept thinking he would say something to Herbert. He would apologize for upsetting him or apologize for the kiss or… something. But the right words just wouldn't come to him. And as Herbert didn't seem angry, he started to think it was best to keep quiet and pretend nothing happened. It wasn't until they were back in the castle, standing at the door of the music room, that Herbert gave Alfred's hand a squeeze and said,

"You'll trust me, someday, and then you won't be afraid. I know I made a mess of the library with my temper and I know I'm not as mature as Angus and father, but I wouldn't hurt you. Even if I was angry, I'd never hurt you. I promise."

Then he left and Alfred wondered, not for the first time, how it could possibly be wrong to like someone like Herbert. His feelings for Herbert, while he didn't understand them, yet, felt good and warm and right – how could such feelings be sinful? Alfred couldn't read well enough in any language to tackle something so complicated as the Bible, so he couldn't consult that. He had a suspicion that anyone at the church in the village that he might ask would give him answers that they thought would please Count Von Krolock. He was also pretty sure that the count, while he didn't lie, couldn't help with this problem because he thought religion was a foolish waste of time. Alfred would have to figure it out himself.

Professor Abronsius had always praised the virtues of logic, so Alfred would use logic to guide him. Logically, he knew Professor Abronsius had lied to him in the past. Logically, he knew Professor Abronsius had no patience for religion as he put all his faith in science. If Professor Abronsius didn't believe in religion, then how could he honestly say what was sinful and what was not? How could he know what God's will was when he didn't believe? Logically, Professor Abronius couldn't possibly say whether or not kissing other men was evil. Logically, he'd been lying, again.

Alfred's shoulders slumped. It didn't answer all his questions, but it was a start. He would have to think more on it, later.

The music room was quite large and very empty. There were several musical instruments carefully stored around the room and a brass music stand. Sheet music on the stand looked like nothing more than a page full of black dots and lines to Alfred, but the count seemed to think it was important so there wasn't much of a choice. He would learn.

"Hello." Angus was suddenly standing behind Alfred in the doorway of the music room. "Have you picked an instrument, yet?"

"Not yet. I thought I'd try the harp because the count plays it. Do you think that would please him? It all looks very hard. I don't want to disappoint him."

"You won't disappoint him, but if you haven't chosen yet, I have something to show you." Angus clapped his hands together and was nearly jumping up and down, he was so excited. "I know just what you'll like! Come with me." He grabbed hold of Alfred's good hand and pulled him out of the room.

A few moments later they were in Angus' room and Alfred sat on the bed, entranced as Angus played his musical instrument. It was an unusual sound, powerful and deeply moving. Angus let the last note drift away and looked at Alfred, expectantly. "Well?"

"It – it's perfect!" Alfred jumped to his feet with his enthusiasm. "That was beautiful!"

In the doorway of the bedroom, Count Von Krolock groaned. "Oh, Alfred…the bagpipes? That's what you want?"

"The laddie has good taste, father." Angus threw an arm over Alfred's shoulders. "I knew he had the soul of a Scotsman."

But Alfred's smile fell away. He hadn't wanted to dissatisfy the count. "I don't have to, sir. The harp would be nice, too."

"No, no." Count Von Krolock seemed to steel himself. "You must enjoy what you play or you will never truly do well and I won't have you feeling guilty because you think this displeases me. I did say that you would choose your instrument and just because it is not my favorite sound doesn't mean you should settle for an instrument you don't like. Angus may teach you. I'm sure you will play wonderfully." Then he left, muttering under his breath, "Of all things… bagpipes."

A few nights later, Angus and Count Von Krolock left. Angus rode towards Germany while Count Von Krolock headed for Rome where, he said, the Inquisitor was situated. Both would return as quickly as possible.

There was no further tension between Alfred and Herbert. They read together and Herbert helped Alfred with arithmetic. Alfred finished his Christmas gift for Koukol and proudly gave it to him. He thought he might have been squished when Koukol hugged him. Herbert began to teach Alfred to play poker and, in return, Alfred taught Herbert to play knucklebones he'd begged from Koukol after he'd made a mutton stew for himself and Alfred. Herbert had found the idea playing with animal bones repulsive, at first, but he was competitive enough that he was soon sitting on the floor with Alfred, eagerly rolling bones.

The days went well and comfortably until, almost a week after the count and Angus had left, Alfred found himself outside a few hours before dusk.

He walked towards the stables, eager for some time with Dusty. He wanted to brush Dusty and show Herbert what a good job he could do on his own. If he got up enough courage, he might even try to brush Buttercup as he'd been getting friendlier since Alfred had braided his mane.

Alfred was only half-way across the courtyard when something caught his attention.

Someone was standing at the closed gates of the castle.

Alfred raised his hand to shade his eyes from the sun and what he saw made him stop breathing for a moment. He felt dizzy. Relief and terror shot through him like lightening and he had no idea what he was should be feeling. He felt like his whole world had, again, been turned on end.

The person at the gate beckoned and Alfred started walking towards him. When, at last, he reached the gate, he stared at the other man. "Professor Abronsius?"

Professor Abronsius took hold of the one of the iron rods of the gate with one hand as he leaned forward and smiled. "I'm so very glad to see you, my boy. Are you well? Have they hurt you?"

Alfred, stunned by the professor's reappearance and bizarrely friendly attitude, stood there in silence.

"What are you waiting for, Alfred? Open the gate and let me in."

 **To be continued…**


	19. Alone

**Chapter 19: Alone**

Alfred felt sick.

He felt strange, like his blood had gone cold in his veins. He stood there in the snow and stared. He should have been happy to see Professor Abronsius. He'd been so worried to think of the professor wandering out in the lonely mountains, defenseless against the wolves and brigands that would surely be prowling the forests. But he wasn't happy. He was relieved to know Professor Abronsius was alive, but he'd expected to learn that the professor was alive and well back in Germany.

Suddenly faced with the professor, Alfred felt himself slip into old habits. He lowered his gaze and his shoulders hunched. That unpleasant knot in his stomach that had nearly vanished over the past few weeks was suddenly back and as uncomfortable as ever where it sat, twisting in his stomach.

Alfred swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and said, "Professor? Are you alright? Where have you been?"

"Open the gate, Alfred. We'll talk inside where it's warm."

Alfred had a powerful urge to do as he was told. It was as if just the sight of Professor Abronsius had sent him crashing off a terrible cliff. He felt flattened, somehow. Funny… he hadn't realized how happy he'd been until that moment. That thought only made him feel guilty. It was as if he was unhappy to find out the professor was alive. What a terrible person he was! A horrible, vile person. He should be happy.

"I don't think…"

"You don't have to think. You know you're not good at it. Just open the gate."

He was almost positive the count wouldn't approve. Angus had gone to speak to Professor Abronsius and the count seemed to think it was important to find him, but Alfred really didn't think the count would want Professor Abronsius in the castle when he was away. But Alfred was so accustomed to obeying… he found himself reaching for the lever that would open the gates.

An inarticulate roar made Alfred jump and snatch his hand away from the lever. He spun around and found Koukol running towards him. He took a step towards Koukol and only when Koukol was more than halfway across the courtyard did he hear what Koukol was trying to shout to him.

"Don't open that gate! Don't let him in!"

"Alfred!" Professor Abronsius' voice snapped, causing Alfred to look back at him. The professor's hand was still holding one of the bars of the gate had white knuckles. His other hand had slipped under his coat. "Open the gate, Alfred. Do as you're told and open the gate!" He yanked out, from under his coat, a pistol and fired.

Alfred yelped.

The shot went passed Alfred. He gaped at Professor Abronsius then turned to see where the shot had gone.

Koukol lay face-down in the snow. He didn't move.

"You shot him." Alfred couldn't believe it. He had known Professor Abronsius had come to this part of the world to kill vampires whom he believed were a danger to humanity and he had known that Professor Abronsius carried a pistol, but he'd never imagined the professor killing an innocent, harmless man like Koukol.

Alfred was shaking. He bolted to Koukol's side. He barely noticed the cold snow when he knelt down and, as carefully as he could, rolled Koukol over onto his back so he could see the bullet hole in Koukol's shoulder. It could have been worse – Koukol was alive, at least – but the wound was terrible. Blood was everywhere.

Koukol blinked up at Alfred and weakly managed to say, "Don't let him in."

Alfred whirled his head around to face the professor. "What… why? Why did you do that?!"

Professor Abronsius, holding his pistol unrepentantly, shook his head. "I'm so sorry, my boy. The way he rushed at you and was yelling… I thought he was attacking you. You know I only want to look after you. You know you can't take care of yourself."

"He wouldn't hurt me; he's a good person! He's my friend." Alfred looked back at Koukol's wound. He didn't know what to do. He pressed his hands over the wound, but when Koukol let out a pained groan, he doubted whether it was the right thing to do. He had to get Koukol inside. With a struggle, he managed to get Koukol to his feet and together they staggered into the castle. There was no way they could make it all the way to Koukol's rooms, but Alfred at least got him to the sofa in the parlor where a fire warmed the room. Desperate to stop the blood, he quickly used his scarf as a bandage and wrapped Koukol's shoulder as well as he could.

Within minutes of laying down on the sofa, Koukol fell asleep and Alfred couldn't get him to wake.

It would be a long while until Herbert could help and Alfred didn't know if Koukol would be alright until then. He was pretty sure the bullet should be taken out, but he just knew he'd end up making things worse if he tried. Alfred did the only thing he could think of. It meant disobeying the count's explicit orders, but for Koukol's sake, he would risk whatever punishment the count deemed appropriate. He left the castle.

Alfred ran back out of the castle, took a quick glance at the gates and saw that Professor Abronsius had gone. He didn't have time to think about it. He ran to the stables and opened Dusty's stall. As quickly as he could, he saddled his horse and, freezing in his spot as he realized Dusty was too small to carry two people, he went to Buttercup's stall.

"Look, I know you don't like me much, but this is an emergency. Please come. Come on." At a loss for what else to do, Alfred got on Dusty and hoped Buttercup would follow. He did.

In his haste, Alfred entirely forgot to close the castle gates.

Dusty ran faster than wildfire and before long they were at the village with Buttercup following behind as obediently as a duckling following his mother. They didn't stop until they came to the front of the inn where Alfred, in a panicked rush, tumbled right off Dusty's back.

"Mama! Mama, quick. Hurry!" He started calling for her even before he got back to his feet and, without thinking to take Dusty or Buttercup to the stables, dashed into the inn where he found Mama Rebecca scrubbing one of the tables with her sleeves pushed to her elbows, her face red from exertion and her hair escaping the long braid she wore pinned around her head like a crown. Alfred went straight to her and pressed his hands together in front of him, begging. "You've got come! Koukol was shot and I don't know what to do, he's bleeding everywhere and he seems really weak and now he won't wake up. What do I do?"

She blinked at him a moment, then appeared to process what he'd said. "Right. Alright. Calm down. Where His Excellency?"

"He left, and Angus, too. They left a few nights ago and they won't be back for months and the sun hasn't set yet, so Herbert isn't awake. Please, tell me what to do."

She let her cleaning rag drop to the table and pulled down the sleeves of her shirt. "Let me get my coat."

Mama Rebecca needed no help to get onto Dusty, she was an experienced rider and even offered to ride Buttercup so Alfred could stay with his familiar horse. Alfred, however, couldn't bring himself to have her ride the bigger, more temperamental horse. He wouldn't do that to a lady.

So Alfred gave Buttercup a hopeful look. "Please… be nice." Then he managed to get onto Buttercup, regretting all the while that he'd completely forgotten to saddle Buttercup before they'd set out from the castle. His perch was precarious and he clenched his legs perhaps too tightly, though Buttercup didn't seem to mind. Maybe having a vampire as one's normal rider made a tough horse. While Buttercup wasn't by any means friendly and still regarded Alfred in a somewhat menacing way, he didn't make any serious effort to dislodge him.

Back at the castle, Mama Rebecca managed to take the bullet out of Koukol's shoulder and promised Alfred that Koukol would be fine given rest, warmth, and food. He would wake in time, but until then, he needed to be cared for. Alfred happily agreed to take that job upon himself.

Alfred hugged her before she left. "I'll come back to the village with you," he said.

"Oh, don't bother with that. You stay here where it's warm. Not like it's the first time I've been tromping round in these mountains." She fondly patted his cheek with her plump hand.

"Would you like to borrow Dusty? He really is a very good little horse and no trouble at all. I don't like to think of you walking so far alone and, if you ride you'll get home well before dark."

She accepted and promised to take care of Dusty until Alfred was able to collect him.

Then, Alfred was alone.

He made sure the fire in the parlor was kept fed ad he managed to help Koukol drink some water, though he still didn't wake up. Night finally fell and Alfred eagerly wait for Herbert to saunter into the parlor so he could tell him everything that had happened. He knew Herbert would want to know about Professor Abronsius being around.

Herbert didn't come. Hours passed. Alfred couldn't bring himself to fret, too much. It wasn't as if Herbert was obligated to inform Alfred of his comings and goings. He might have slipped down to the village, despite Count Von Krolock's instructions to stay at the castle. Alfred wasn't happy that the whole night went by without him getting to see Herbert, but he accepted it. A second night went by the same way. Herbert didn't appear and Koukol didn't wake. Alfred did his best to be attentive to Koukol, but he did end up drifting off now and again with exhaustion. It wasn't until the third night came and there was still no sign of Herbert that Alfred truly began to worry and began to search the castle.

"Herbert!" There was no answer to Alfred's call. "Herbert!" He walked through all the halls of the castle, went into every room he could, but there was no sign of Herbert.

The night rolled on and, still, Herbert didn't appear. Alfred had time to think. He wondered how the count's meeting would go – would he get in trouble for the killings of Prince Radu and Charlotte? - and he wondered what Angus would do when he realized Professor Abronsius wasn't in Germany. He realized that if he saw Professor Abronsiu came back, it would be his responsibility to talk to him and make sure he didn't tell anyone about the Von Krolock family. What he would say, he didn't know. And, of course, he wondered what to do about Herbert. He'd been puzzling over that question for quite a while and still didn't have a good answer.

Even if God sent an angel down right at that moment and told Alfred that it was perfectly fine for him to fancy Herbert, Alfred wasn't sure if he could do it. Just the thought of holdings hands and kissing and hugging Herbert gave him a strange, squirmy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Alfred searched the whole castle until, eventually, the only place left to search was the crypt where the coffins of the vampire family were stored. He had only ever been in the crypt once, when Professor Abronsius had forced him down and attempted to brow-beat him into murdering Count Von Krolock while he slept. It hadn't been Alfred's proudest moment when he'd raised the mallet over his head to pound the wooden stake into the heart of the count. Even back then, when he'd honestly believed Professor Abronsius when he'd said the count was nothing but an evil monster, he'd felt sick at the idea of killing the count. Later, when he knew what a good person the count was, he suffered an almost a crippling guilt at the thought of what he'd almost done.

The crypt smelled terrible. It was damp and musty. He wondered at how the vampire family could stand it, but decided that they must consider safety before comfort and there was no safer place for them during the day than in the crypt. The darkness would have been absolute, but that day, Alfred was surprised to find light in the crypt. Even before he came to the room where the coffins were kept, he saw a light brightening the darkness. He followed that light to the coffins and found that an iron lantern lit the room.

On the top of Herbert's coffin was a small wooden cross.

It caught Alfred's attention as surely as a lighthouse beacon at night. Alfred stared at it. That… couldn't be right. Herbert surely wouldn't want it there. He reached out to remove the little thing, but a hand grabbed his.

"Professor?" Astonished, again, to find Professor Abronsius where he shouldn't be Alfred made no attempt to free himself from the professor's grip. "What are you doing…" Alfred looked around at the crypt, dark and damp and altogether unpleasant. "Here? You shouldn't be here." He was absolutely certain that the count wouldn't approve. "How did you get in?"

"You forgot the close the gate when you rushed down the village, stupid boy." He shook his head. "Oh, Alfred, what's happened to you?" He looked at Alfred with something that might have been pity in his eyes. "Have you forgotten everything I taught you? They're dangerous. They can't be allowed free rein over the Earth or it will be the end for all of humanity."

Alfred shook his head. "You're wrong."

Professor Abronsius' eyes went very wide. "What?"

"You're wrong. They aren't horrible monsters. I know them, now, and I know they aren't evil. They're just people. The count's been teaching me things. He tells me about old battles he fought in, about fighting the Turks and he watched this castle being built when he was a boy. He wants me to read better and learn mathematics and science and music and… and everything! Herbert tells terrible jokes. Angus…"

"Angus?" Professor Abronsius' sharp voice broke in. "Who is Angus?"

Alfred gulped. "I think I shouldn't have said that. But, you've got to believe me – they really are just people. They're not monsters."

Professor Abronsius sighed. "You'll never change. After all this time, you're still as naïve as ever. What on Earth would they want to keep you around for? Think. Do you believe they are keeping you for the pleasure of your company? Fool of a boy. They want your blood."

"I know."

"What?"

"I know they want my blood, but I think they want me here, too. They've been very nice."

Professor Abronsius' eyes narrowed and his heavy eyebrows drew together. He took a big step towards Alfred, putting them almost nose-to-nose.

Alfred was so startled by the move that he stepped back and bumped against Herbert's coffin. He wondered if Herbert, asleep within, felt the bump and if it had woken him. If it did, there was no indication.

"Have they taken your blood?" Professor Abronsius suddenly reached out and grabbed Alfred's chin with a surprisingly hard grip, so hard that Alfred winced from the pain. He looked intently at Alfred's throat, and then pulled his head to the side to examine the other side of his throat. "You can't be a vampire, yet, you were just out in the sunlight. There is some scarring…"

"Oh, that's not from the count or Herbert. That… that was an accident." He thought of that awful night when Professor Abronsius had abandoned him in the snow just before Sarah had attacked. The wound had healed, but Sarah had bitten him so savagely, so carelessly, that Alfred would probably always bear the scars. He held up a hand, "His Excellency takes blood from my finger." Though the professor released Alfred's chin to look at the finger, Alfred knew there was nothing to see. The count had always made such a tiny puncture that it healed without a trace in only a few minutes.

Professor Abronsius let out a terrible sigh. He slipped his arm around Alfred's shoulders and pulled him close to his side. "Give me a few minutes to explain." He started to walk and brought Alfred with him, away from Herbert's coffin. "You know you're not smart, Alfred, so this sort of misunderstanding is to be expected and I am sorry that I had to leave you alone for so long. If I hadn't, you wouldn't have gotten so confused. If the vampires are acting kind, it is purely for a selfish motive and you just don't know what it is, yet. They don't really like you. They can't."

They were halfway across the crypt, by then. Alfred looked over his shoulder at Herbert's coffin and wished the count or Angus had been there to help. He was starting to flounder. The arm over his shoulder was heavy, but it felt different than the count's heavy arm when he'd put it around Alfred's shoulders. Alfred hadn't been confused before Professor Abronsius had reappeared, but he was definitely confused as the professor walked with him. It was all he'd ever wanted. Before he'd arrived at the Von Krolock castle, the one thing Alfred wished for more than anything else had been a show of fondness from Professor Abronsius. To have the professor being so gentle with him made him long for something he'd long since given up hoping for, but what he said… that was wrong. They DID like Alfred! That was one thing he had no doubt of.

"They do like me, professor. They don't try to hurt me. Please, believe me. And hurting them would be wrong. They haven't done anything bad. They didn't even kidnap Sarah, like we'd thought. She ran away from home to come here, she wanted to be here and knew what would happen when she got here."

Professor Abronsius nodded, thoughtfully, as he continued pulling Alfred along with him and when he stopped walking, he turned Alfred to look at him, even as he unbolted and opened the door they'd stopped near. "You must realize that I will complete my studies, no matter what your opinion might be. After all, they've clearly corrupted you and you can't see the truth." He opened the door of a large closet and pointed into it. "Get that, please."

Still intent on arguing his case, Alfred stepped into the closet without thought even as he said, "But I'm not corrupt and I do see what's true and…"

Professor Abronsius slammed the closet door closed behind Alfred and Alfred was left in complete darkness.

"Professor? What are you doing?" Alfred pushed on the door, but it didn't move. He pushed harder, and then threw his shoulder against it. Still, nothing. "Let me out!"

"I've bolted it closed, Alfred, so don't bother trying to open the door. Don't worry," Professor Abronsius called back. "It's all in the name of science. You'll go down in history as the first recorded and properly studied vampire. I'll keep you in there long enough for the vampire to be desperate and starving and then he'll turn you into a vampire when he drinks your blood."

"But it won't work," Alfred protested. "The count said I have strange blood and I can't turn into a vampire – I'll just die. And I don't want to go down in history. Please, let me out. And you can't tell anyone about vampires; it's against the rules." He heard the sound of footsteps echoing through the crypt and realized that Professor Abronsius was leaving. He raised his voice. "They'll be very angry!" He waited a minute and when the professor didn't answer, Alfred added. "People know about vampires have to become vampires or be killed; Herbert told me. Please! I don't want you be killed!" Still, no answer. Alfred shouted a bit more and kept trying to force the door, but, in the end, had to admit defeat. Professor Abronsius was gone.

He was trapped.

Herbert was helpless.

Koukol was wounded and unable to care for himself.

Sarah and Magda were locked up and senseless.

Count Von Krolock and Angus wouldn't be home for weeks, perhaps even months.

Alfred put his back against the door and slid down to sit on the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest and put his thumb to his mouth and started chewing on his thumbnail. If the count were there he'd pull Alfred's thumb right away from his mouth, but he wasn't there and Alfred was growing more anxious by the moment so he kept chewing.

The girls wouldn't be fed, Koukol might die, and goodness only knew what Professor Abronsius had planned for Herbert… and it was all Alfred's fault.

 **Herbert-**

Trapped in his coffin, Herbert tried to raise his arms, but the effects of a cross were too strong. He knew there was a cross keeping him captive, there was a distinct feel to the things that he'd long ago learned to recognize. He didn't know exactly what was happening outside his coffin, but he heard muffled voices and then shouting. He heard Alfred. Alfred was agitated, frightened. Herbert tried, again, to raise his arms enough to push off the lid of his coffin, but that little task, something he'd done without effort for many decades, had become impossible. He hadn't even the strength to raise his hands more than a few inches from where they rested at his sides. Herbert opened his mouth to shout something, a warning or encouragement or anything to let Alfred know he wasn't alone, but he couldn't draw a deep enough breath to do more than groan.

He'd lost track of time long before he'd heard Alfred. He'd been stuck in his coffin for what felt like many nights and he hadn't fed in all that time. He was starving. It was worse than the typical hunger his kind suffered from, far worse. He was truly starving. He hadn't gone without anything since he'd been brought into his father's family. His father was indulgent and had always ensured that Herbert wanted for nothing that he could provide. To be trapped, helpless and weak… it was frightening. To know Alfred was alone and facing the person who had made Herbert so helpless was absolutely terrifying.

Eventually, so exhausted by his efforts that he simply couldn't help himself, Herbert drifted into a state that was neither awake nor asleep and desperately thought,

"Father… help."

 **To be continued…**


	20. Trust

**Chapter 20: Trust**

Alfred had no idea how much time passed while he sat in the closet in the crypt.

Time dragged on. Professor Abronsius provided no food or water and hunger soon began to gnaw painfully at Alfred. He became so desperately thirsty that his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. The darkness became his whole world. He'd always had a childish fear of the dark, a fear that monsters would creep out from under his bed while he slept. In recent years, the fear had faded as life became more frightening than what his imagination could conjure, but sitting in the silent darkness only made his mind dwell on what might be lurking in there with him. After all, if vampires were real, perhaps the monsters under the bed were real, too.

He thought he might have fallen asleep once or twice, but he wasn't sure. At one point, he imagined he heard Count Von Krolock's voice, strong and reassuring,

"Courage, Alfred. You are stronger and braver than you know."

"I'm trying. What do I do? Tell me what to do, please."

"Survive."

In that fuzzy, dreamy state, Alfred said something that had been bothering him for quite a while. "I'm sorry I tried to kill you." He's been trying to push away guilt from that for quite a long while, but as he strongly suspected he might starve to death in that closet, he thought he ought to say something while he had the chance. "Professor told me too and I didn't want to but I was scared and… and… and I'm really sorry."

He could almost imagine that he felt the count's cool hand stroke his hair. "You think I couldn't have stopped you? I wanted to know if you were capable of killing. I was pleased to know I was right about your character; your soul is too gentle for such a dark deed. And I must apologize to you - I said you would be safe in my home and yet you keep getting hurt. I am sorry."

"Not your fault. Please come home."

But the voice vanished after that and Alfred was, again, alone.

More time passed… or perhaps it didn't. Alfred's head felt fuzzy. He was confused and dizzy.

It took him entirely by surprised when the closet door opened and Professor Abronsius, holding a lit lantern, looked down at him. The lantern light was painfully bright, so much so that Alfred flinched away and raised a hand to shield his eyes.

Professor Abronsius pulled the closet door all the way open and set down the lantern on a dusty table set near the wall. Without a word to Alfred, he turned and left the crypt, firmly closing the door behind him. The sound of a bolt being slid was very clear.

Slowly, afraid of some trap, Alfred crawled out of the closet. On the table, next to the lantern, Professor Abronsius had left a pitcher of water. Alfred desperately went for the water and tried to gulp it, but it made him sick at once. He retched and vomited up all that he'd drunk. When his stomach stopped rebelling, he tried, again, and managed to hold down a few sips. It was like tasting Heaven. Water had never tasted so sweet.

There was no time to waste.

The water was good, but no miracle cure. He still felt weak and incredibly unwell, but Alfred hauled himself to his feet and staggered to Herbert's coffin. He pulled the cross off the top and was disappointed when Herbert didn't immediately burst out of his coffin. He couldn't just throw a cross away, so he went to the closet that had been his prison and carefully set it inside before he closed the door and hoped that would be far enough away for Herbert's sake. He rushed back to the coffin to slide the lid off. The lid seemed a great deal heavier than it had the last time he'd been in the crypt. He strained with all his might until the heavy lid of Herbert's coffin finally it slid off the side and landed on the floor with a crash.

Herbert was awake. He lay perfectly still with his arms at his sides. His eyes were barely open. It was frightening to see vibrant, spirited Herbert so very still.

Alfred shook Herbert's shoulder. "Herbert? You have to get up." But Herbert didn't move. "Come on. Please? Please get up. Tell me what to do."

Still, Herbert didn't move.

Blood. Herbert had been locked up even longer than Alfred had. It had taken three nights before Alfred had started looking for Herbert and combined with what Alfred had been told about the normal hunger vampires suffered with, he must have been starving.

It was without a moment's hesitation that Alfred put his wrist up to Herbert's mouth. "Bite, Herbert. You have to be strong."

But Herbert didn't bite. In fact, he turned his face away from Alfred's offered wrist. "Not a monster."

"I know you're not a monster. Honest, I do trust you."

Herbert did look at Alfred, then. "And sin? Do you trust me to not lead you into sin?"

The question made Alfred's mind run to naughty thoughts and he blushed, but he said, "I trust you wouldn't want me to do something that's bad, so… yes. I know you wouldn't ask me to do anything that would hurt me. And… and I've been thinking about God, too. And I think, and I might be wrong, but I think since God knows everything, He knows I'm not very smart, so if I do something He doesn't like, He'll let me know so I can stop. Right? He'll tell me if I do bad things, wouldn't he? I think so. So, I think I'm going to try not to think about what Professor Abronsius said about sin and I'll wait until God tells me I'm doing something wrong. I'm sure He knows more about sin than Professor Abronsius." And as God hadn't told Alfred that giving Herbert a kiss was wrong, he was going to go with the theory that kissing was a good thing.

Herbert still didn't bite.

"Herbert, you have to drink my blood."

Herbert muttered, "So hungry… afraid… I won't stop."

"But you will. It snapped the girls out of their hunger right away and you have loads more control than they do. Please!" Alfred insisted. "We're all in terrible danger and I'm not strong enough to save us. Professor Abronsius will keep us locked up as long as he can. The girls haven't been fed in ages and Koukol was shot and I don't know if Professor Abronsius has been taking care of him or not. We need you. We all need you." Alfred slipped his hand over Herbert's and held it lightly. "I'm very thirsty. My head feels funny. Please, please, I trust you. I know you won't really hurt me." It was the truth. He found that he truly did trust Herbert.

Herbert's mouth fell open and he lightly touched Alfred's wrist with his lips. His eyes, when he looked up at Alfred, almost seemed to glow in the shadows cast by Professor Abronsius' lantern. "I will never cause you harm."

"Then trust me, just like I trust you – I want you to feed from me."

Herbert closed his mouth over Alfred's wrist and bit. It hurt, but not as much as he'd thought it would. Naturally, Herbert took only one sip and then was back to his usual self. He sat up, still holding Alfred's wrist to his mouth, and before he pulled away he gave Alfred's wrist a gentle kiss.

Herbert put one hand on Alfred's arm and the other on the back of his head. He leaned closer to Alfred until his lips brushed across the skin of his throat.

The feel of those cool lips was so powerful that Alfred could feel his skin tingling. Herbert's long, talon-like fingernails ran lightly through Alfred's hair. Those lips whispered against Alfred's throat, "I love you." And then he bit Alfred's neck. Again, it did hurt, but it only lasted the briefest of moments before Herbert pulled away. He pulled back and tenderly stroked Alfred's cheek. "Thank you." Then he lowered his face to Alfred's throat, again, and took a moment to indulge in another taste. His tongue lapped against the wound in Alfred's throat, but it was… different than when the count had licked his throat to heal wounds. It wasn't uncomfortable or awkward. It certainly wasn't painful and terrifying like when Prince Radu had assaulted him. Alfred had no words to describe what it was, but he could definitely say that it wasn't unpleasant.

Eventually, Herbert pulled away. He delicately licked a trace of blood from his lips.

The loss of even that tiny amount of blood did Alfred no good. His health was in rocky shape and the small amount of blood Herbert took made him feel even more lightheaded. He swayed and might have fallen if Herbert weren't suddenly out of his coffin and holding him.

"How tired you look, darling." Herbert's eyes were bright and wide. A confidant smirk graced his face.

Alfred felt very weak and wasn't at all sure he could have stood on his own, so he didn't fight when Herbert lowered him to the floor where he could lay down. The stone floor was cold, but Herbert quickly stripped off his jacket and draped it over Alfred. Then he took a little pillow out of his coffin and tucked it under Alfred's head.

"I'm going to go check on everyone and then I'm going to deal with that professor."

Alfred tried to grab Herbert's arm, but could manage nothing more than a light touch. "He thinks," Alfred whispered. "That you'll turn me into a vampire. That's why he kept you locked up and hungry. If he knows you've bitten me, he'll kill you."

Herbert winked at him. "Sweetheart, he'll TRY to kill me. You stay here and have a nice little rest. Here," he sprang up and quickly retrieved the pitcher of water and the mug. "Drink a little more. Just a few little sips." He smiled once Alfred had drunk more water. "You'll feel better soon. I'll be right back. I'll check on the girls and Koukol." He brushed Alfred's hair away from his forehead. "Try to rest for a bit. This may take me a while."

"You'll come back, won't you?"

"Oh, yes."

"You'll get hurt." Alfred started to push himself up. "I should go with you…"

"No." Herbert carefully pushed Alfred back down. "Just relax. I won't get hurt. I'll be back in one piece in just a short while. That professor got lucky because we weren't expecting him. He snuck in here when no one was looking and trapped me while I slept. I'm not sleeping now and he won't catch me unawares."

While Herbert spoke, Alfred felt his eyes growing heavy. He slipped away into sleep with Herbert petting his hair.

 **Herbert-**

He didn't like leaving Alfred alone, but there were things that needed to be done. Finding Professor Abronsius for starters.

Herbert picked up Alfred from where he lay on the floor and put him very carefully in his coffin. He didn't put the lid on for fear that Alfred would wake and panic, but the soft lining of the coffin had to be more comfortable than the cold floor. He had just settled Alfred when Alfred yawned and, without opening his eyes mumbled,

"Herbert, is father home?"

It warmed Herbert's heart to hear that. He would have to tell his father for Alfred was surely too bashful to say such a thing to the count's face no matter how much it would please the count. "Not yet. He'll be home as soon as he can."

Alfred said, "Soon. Want everyone home." Then he was sound asleep and Herbert set to work.

As the past few nights had all been part of a plan to have Alfred bitten, Herbert knew that Professor Abronsius had to be lurking on the other side of the crypt's door. He climbed the stairs to the door and lightly knocked before he said, making his voice as soft and Alfred-like as he could,

"Professor? Let me out."

At once, Professor Abronsius threw the door open and stood there with a stake clenched tightly in one hand with a wooden mallet in the other. He'd been smart enough to expect an attack, but not strong enough to defend himself. It was simple for Herbert to disarm the professor and he threw the man back into the hall before he could make enough noise to wake Alfred.

Professor Abronsius stared up at Herbert with wide, terrified eyes. Obviously, he'd never imagined he could fail.

Herbert grinned and looked down his nose at Professor Abronsius with distain. "You want to study vampires? Well, I think it's time you get a first-hand look at how we feed."

Minutes later, Herbert checked on his little sisters. Magda was in a sad state and Sarah, when he next checked on her, was no better.

"Hello, dear," Herbert crooned as soon as he went into Sarah's cell. "How are you feeling?"

She was so hungry that she'd stopped fighting and looked up at Herbert with mournful eyes. She whined at him. "Please… please… it hurts." She rattled her chains feebly as she tried to get to him, desperate to find some relief from her hunger.

It was a good sign that, despite her hunger, she was able to speak coherently. They would be able to let her out of her chains, soon. "I know. I've got a nice meal for you. I just wanted to check that you and Magda were alright before I went to fetch him. Would you like that?" He knelt next to her and stroked her cheek with his fingertips. When she snapped her jaws at his hand, he obligingly moved his hand within reach and allowed her to bite. He couldn't help the pity he felt for her condition. The hunger had been bad enough for him and his father had been very diligent in feeding him on a regular, frequent schedule. He'd certainly never had to go more than a night without feeding. "Would you like that, dear? Would you like something warm and wiggling and breathing? They taste so sweet."

Sarah drew back from Herbert, more awake and settled with his blood in her. "More?"

"Of course. It was beastly for you to be left alone for so long, but it wasn't our Alfred's fault."

She instantly said, "Of course not. Alfred wouldn't do that!" Then she blinked and looked confused. "Where is he?"

"Sleeping. He's not feeling very well, but don't worry about him." Herbert stood as he licked his own blood off his hand, then went to the door of the cell. In the hall, he found Professor Abronsius just where he'd left him, on the floor with his hands and feet bound together. He grabbed the professor by an ankle and completely ignored the man's outraged protests while he dragged Professor Abronsius into Sarah's cell.

Sarah saw Professor Abronsius and started to wiggle like a little child excited over the prospected of a rare treat of cake. She kicked her feet and stared at the human with bright, greedy eyes. "Mine? Mine? For me?"

"Yes, dear. You'll need to share with Magda, but you're such a sweet girl, I know you won't mind."

She nodded, quickly. "Yes, yes. I'll share. Gimme? Gimme now? Please?"

He laughed when the professor struggled as much as his bindings would allow and happily brought the man right to Sarah and laid him next to her on the floor. Then he grabbed the professor's hands and brought them right up to Sarah's mouth. Sarah bit savagely and Professor Abronsius screamed.

Hebert laughed and wondered how long he could keep Professor Abronsius alive because he had no intention of allowing the man to die any time soon. He wasn't feeling nearly so forgiving.

 **Alfred-**

Alfred woke not much happier than when he'd fallen asleep. He was sore and his head hurt and every little twitch and movement was terribly painful. He groaned and slowly opened his eyes. It took him a minute to realize that he was no longer laying on the floor of the crypt. He was in his bed and warm light filled the room. He looked around and saw that his room was nearly filled with burning candles. It was almost as bright as daylight. He turned his head to the side and found Herbert stretched out on the bed, watching him.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore. Can I have more water?"

Herbert was on his feet faster than Alfred could blink and poured a cup of water from a pitcher on the little side-table. Like before, he helped Alfred drink and then set the cup aside. "I found that professor. He isn't going to be a danger to us, anymore."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm very sure, darling."

Alfred had never thought he'd be so relieved to have Professor Abronsius out of his life. "Are Sarah and Magda alright? What about Koukol. He was hurt really badly."

"Yes, he was. He isn't well, I have to admit, but by some miracle he's alive. That professor completely neglected to give him any care. I took a quick jaunt down to the village and fetched Madam Chagal to help care for him. She's in one of the guest room now. You should be proud of me," Herbert crawled back onto the bed like a cat and settled in next to Alfred. "I cleaned that room all by myself. Dusted and swept and put fresh linens on the bed. I haven't done that sort of thing in ages."

The idea of inconveniencing Mama Rebecca was awful. Alfred was just a little tired; he wasn't really hurt. "I can take care of Koukol. She doesn't have to be here."

"You need to be taken care of yourself. Madam Chagal is happy to help and I'm compensating her very well for her time and effort." He paused and rolled over onto his stomach, resting his chin on his hands. "Darling, I just wanted to say… in case it still worries you… I understand you're not ready."

"Ready?"

"For," Herbert paused and seemed to search for the right words. "More than friendship." He smiled when Alfred blushed. "It's alright. I accept that and I'll respect it. But, when you are ready - if you ever are - I will be waiting for you."

Alfred felt a surge of relief. It was like he'd been holding his breath, but if Herbert understood what Alfred could barely put to words, then he was sure things would be fine and he could breathe easy. Still, he anxiously twisted with the blanket covering him in his hands. "But, I'll grow old. You said you think I'm good-looking, now, but what if I change? What if you don't like me when I'm old? That Rene was older when you met him so maybe you'll look at me and you'll think of that Rene and you won't want anything to do with me." As much as Alfred's stomach twisted nervously at the idea of 'MORE' than friendship with Herbert, he found the idea of Herbert wanting nothing to do with him downright painful.

"Sweetheart, you could never be anything like Rene. I think no matter how old you get, you'll always been my sweet, cute Alfred. You're not the only one afraid, you know. What if you grow older and you start to think that I'm nothing more than a silly child? I'll never look any older than I do right now. You're going to grow to be a handsome, mature gentleman and I'll still look like I just started shaving. I'm so afraid you'll leave because you'll want to find someone who can grow old with you – someone normal."

Alfred shook his head. "I could never think you're a silly child. And I don't want to go anywhere else. This is… home."

"And I hope you will always call this place your home. I will wait for you to be ready. I have plenty of time and," he winked. "Good things are worth waiting for."


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue-**

Angus returned from his trip abroad, disappointed that he hadn't been able to find Professor Abronsius, but he cheered up immediately when he saw that Herbert had caught the professor and kept him locked up in the dungeons as a ready meal.

Count Von Krolock returned from Rome and his interview with the Inquisitor had gone well. He had not been found guilty of any wrong-doing. He, too, was well pleased to see Professor Abronsius locked up far below the castle.

None of the vampires saw any need to upset Alfred by telling him what, exactly, had become of Professor Abronsius.

Alfred lived for many long, happy years as member of the family he'd always wanted. There were grand adventures and peaceful nights by the fire, there was laughter and tears. There was travel to distant lands where Alfred saw and did things he'd never imagined, but they always returned home to the castle in the mountains of Transylvania. Alfred learned to ride with Herbert and spent summer nights racing with him though the mountains. Angus taught him to fight himself and though Alfred never enjoyed it, he had been bursting with pride the first time he managed to land a blow on Angus. Alfred happily studied under the guidance of Count Von Krolock until he could read and write as well as the finest scholars.

But all things have their end. When Alfred's long years came to a peaceful end, his family laid him to rest on the grounds of the castle he'd grown to love so well under a simple headstone that read, "Our Alfred".

As for whether or not any romance ever developed between Alfred and Herbert… that's private.


End file.
